Velocity Asymptotic
by liketheriver
Summary: Just because they’ve been sent back to Earth, doesn’t mean the adventures stop. John and Rodney run afoul of McKay’s new project in Area 51 and it’s just like old times. SheppardMcKay friendship. Complete!
1. Variable 1: Time

_RATING: T for language and adult themes._

_SEASON: Third season set during the episode The Return._

_MAJOR CHARACTERS: The boys, of course, (if you don't know who I'm talking about, you're in the wrong fic) _

_CATEGORY: a little of this, a little of that._

_SUMMARY: Just because they've been sent back to Earth, doesn't mean the adventures stop. John and Rodney run afoul of McKay's new project in Area 51 and it's just like old times. Sheppard-McKay friendship._

_SPOILERS: Since this fic is set during the time they are back on Earth during The Return Part 1, that episode is hit pretty hard. But anything up to that point is fair game._

_FEEDBACK: Yes, please. I thrive on it and so do the bunnies._

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, else I would have let them stay on Atlantis and the Ancients be damned._

_NOTES: This story is a stand alone fic, not part of either one of my series. In addition, this is by far my longest fic and first to reach 50,000 words! I'll be posting it in four parts as the beta checks are complete._

_ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Special thanks, as always to Koschka for the final once over and how she kept me going on it. Also, thanks to Kodiak for her input and checks, as well. And thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed my other stories…it really is very much appreciated!_

**Velocity Asymptotic**

by liketheriver

**Variable 1: Time**

"_Think about where you are in the solar system."_

_Those were McKay's first words to me. Not, "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Rodney McKay." Not, "How did you do that?" Not even, "Who the hell are you?" I'd sat in the chair at the Antarctic outpost and before I could think, 'damn my ass is cold,' I was leaning back and staring at the icy ceiling above me. And while I may have had a thousand questions as to why and how and who, Rodney never did. He simply took in the empirical evidence before him (man in chair has gene) and used me as the tool he recognized me to be (man in chair can make chair work the way it's supposed to)._

"_Think about where you are in the solar system."_

_The words had been spoken in what I would eventually learn was McKay's typical tone– I'm right, just do it, and don't waste time arguing. So, I had. And I did it in just those terms. Not 'I'm on Earth or Antarctica or weird ass underground facility', just, 'here I am, find me if you can'. And it found me, damn did it ever. Whatever it was… fate, destiny, purpose… it found me and hasn't ever let go. Who would have thought that sitting in a chair would lead to a trip across the universe, a discovery of an amazing city, a battle against a deadly enemy, a realization that there was more, so much more to what I had always accepted as my existence? Who could imagine that a glowing map of orbs floating above my head would change my definition of the world and intertwine my life with so many others that sometimes it was impossible to distinguish where one began and another ended? _

"_Think about where you are in the solar system."_

_Rodney's order in that frozen complex had been limited to the Milky Way, but that was just the beginning. It was the jumping-off point for what was waiting on the other side of the wormhole in another solar system, another galaxy, another Ancient facility. Atlantis had opened so many doors I had locked to myself and now she had been locked away from us all. The Ancients had returned and like a landlord come to collect overdue rent, they had evicted us and we had lost the most amazing thing that had ever happened to any of us. Oh, she was still out there, across the distance of space. But we weren't allowed to travel that distance and only time would tell if we ever would get to again, time that had been passing way too slowly for me. Time, distance, velocity, they were a bitch when you got right down to it. _

"_Think about where you are in the solar system."_

_Back in the Milky Way, back on Earth, that's where we were and it wasn't just the City that had been taken away, it was everything, everyone. Carson was at the SGC with me, but Teyla and Ronon were still in Pegasus, Elizabeth had holed up under the guise of writing her memoirs, and Rodney had been assigned to Area 51. And for weeks the world had just felt… off and I was sicker than hell of feeling that way. Maybe that's why I suggested it– a weekend in Vegas. Carson and I would fly up to Nevada on the weekly transport between 51 and the SGC, we'd grab Rodney, drive into the city, and drink and gamble and laugh and forget exactly where we were and why._

"_Think about where you are in the solar system."_

_That's exactly what I didn't want to think about. It was the wrong solar system, the wrong galaxy and I was working with the wrong team. So much so that seeing McKay after so long was a little bittersweet. When Carson went to deliver a report to another doctor at the base and McKay took the time to take me to his lab and show me his latest project, some new energy field they were working on to replace the hyperdrive systems on the next generation of intergalactic cruisers, it left me feeling a little homesick. And my first thought when we were suddenly standing in the middle of a desert, with nothing but sand dunes, a lone camel, and a village in the distance was this is just like old times. But eventually nostalgia gave way to the reality of the situation when we jumped to another place and time and then another and the reality was we were so totally screwed._

"_Think about where you are in the solar system."_

_Those were McKay's first words to me. And as he spoke them to me again as we jumped once more, variables in a bizarre equation where time, distance, and speed were completely in flux, I hoped like hell they wouldn't be his last._

xxxx

Hanif did not understand why he was the one that had to come find the camel. After all, it was Gershom's fault that the wretched creature had been able to break his restraints and wander away from the camp. Never mind that his brother was not yet six years of age, never mind that their mother looked to Hanif for help when their father was away trading because he was the oldest. Well, except for Shifra, but she was just a girl and what good were girls anyway? Her bride price was going to impoverish the family; that was if she didn't poison them with her cooking first.

Tugging at the camel's leads, Hanif spoke a curse he had overheard Ibrahim, the leatherworker, once use when his tools slipped and he cut his hand open. The animal simply grunted gutturally in response and the boy tugged once again. "Come, you miserable devil, or I will suggest that father trade you along with Shifra."

The winds shifted and Hanif wrapped his scarf across his mouth and nose to block out the blowing sands that hissed down the face of the dune he was climbing. Why could the camel not just wander over to the well or try to eat the dates that were drying? Why did he have to wander so far away that the only way to find him was to follow the quickly disappearing tracks across the ever-shifting sands? And why did he have to be the first born son and stuck with all the responsibilities when his baby brother was the one that had tugged the harness free during his play? Soon he would be old enough to travel with his father and he would be able to leave the mundane chores of small boys and useless girls behind and become an important man in the world. Soon he would see the wonders of the cities and the foreigners his father spoke of with their strange clothes and stranger languages.

Actually, it occurred much sooner than he had thought.

"What do you mean you don't know what happened?"

The voice of the man had Hanif stopping in his tracks as he looked for the source of the strangely accented words.

"I mean just that, Sheppard. I have no fucking clue how we ended up here…wherever here is, or even whenever here is."

"When?" Hanif looked down from the dune and spotted the two men that were completely unaware of him thanks to their argument. Taking advantage of their distraction, he dropped to the sand and crawled cautiously to the edge to peer at them as the taller, dark-haired man repeated his demand, his voice rising in outrage. "_When_? Since when is _when_ in question?"

"I told you the field takes advantage of the work Janus did on the time travel Jumpers. He basically used quantum tunneling to jump multiverses as the velocity approaches the speed of light. It was really just a matter of tweaking the calculation to manipulate the distance part of the equation so that the ship could basically skip the time portion of the trip and appear almost instantaneously at the destination…"

"Stop, stop, just… stop." Running fingers through his uncovered hair, he shook his head. Honestly, how did these men expect to survive in the desert dressed the way they were? Dark clothes that soaked in the heat and stood out against the golden sands, they fit tight against their chests and legs and their arms were as exposed as their heads. "I don't want a lesson on quantum physics…"

"It's actually closer to special relativity," the lighter haired man corrected, the one with the strange eyes– blue in color and skin pale and turning pink as he watched them. Perhaps they were demons or gods. But then, the gods he had seen come through the chappa'ai had eyes of fiery gold and voices of howling sands and spoke more with their bodies than their words. Although the pale one seemed to speak nonstop with both.

The dark-haired one raised a finger in warning. "I don't care. I just want you to figure out how to get us back."

"How? Build a Jumper with a time machine out of sand? Sheppard, we were supposed to be leaving for Las Vegas. I have my cell phone, my leatherman, and five hundred in cash in my wallet. I don't even have any snacks on me because they're loaded in the cooler in the car. So, unless you happen to have some Ancient device you squirreled away and didn't tell anyone about that is masquerading as your ass, we're pretty much out of luck here."

The camel, which had remained remarkably quiet for the entire length of the conversation let out a gurgling bleat and Hanif threw himself flat against the sand to avoid being seen as both men turned their attention up to the dune.

"Is that a camel?" the pale one asked.

Not daring to look up, Hanif prayed that they would not see him but awaited the inevitable when they would. But instead of them yelling up to him in their strange clipped accent, the dark-haired one said, "Oh, hell, it's happening again."

And then there was nothing but the whispering of the sands.

Hanif raised his head tentatively, then sat all the way up when the men were gone. Completely gone. There were no footprints beyond those where they had stood, and if not for those, he would have thought that maybe he had imagined them.

Demons, definitely, from a world with no sun and no sand and apparently no camels. Grabbing the reins of the animal, he broke into as fast a run as the beast would allow him, calling for his mother as soon as their tent was in sight. He was the eldest son, and he had the responsibility to warn his tribe of what he had seen.

xxxx

Today was obviously Larim's lucky day. How else could one explain the fortune of coming across Brenna, the blacksmith's daughter, preparing to bathe in the cool waters of the pond? The path was secluded, one rarely traveled unless there was need to go to the Old Lady's farm, which there rarely ever was. Hence, there was no surprise that Brenna seemed unconcerned that she would be seen as she untied her skirts and they dropped to her ankles.

As chance would have it, Larim did have need to visit the Old Lady that day. His father's milker had gone dry, and seeing as the Old Lady was so… well, old, she had garnered a reputation of knowing how to cure these things. So Larim had been sent to seek her advice on how to resolve the issue. Larim seriously doubted there was much to be done; the animal was probably as ancient as the Old Lady herself. But it was a good excuse to avoid working in the fields and a beautiful summer day for a stroll through the shade of the forest, and Larim jumped at the chance even though the Old Lady drooled when she spoke and smelled of rotten vegetables.

And now to find Brenna, with her long braid of red and freckles across her plentiful bosom that she was about to expose as she unfastened her corset even as she stood ankle-deep in the water… Larim did his best to stifle the threatening whimper and tried to decide where, exactly, he should keep his hands. Settling in behind the berry bush, Larim decided nothing could ruin this moment for him. Nothing.

Until the two men suddenly appeared in the middle of the pond.

When the thrashing in the water started, Brenna let out a scream. Larim was torn between revealing he had been watching and coming to her aid, or just watching for a bit longer to see if they were really a risk.

"You have got to be shitting me!" one of the men, the one with dark hair, exclaimed as he started toward the shore.

Brenna screamed again and even though Larim couldn't understand the unintelligible words the man was yelling, his irritated tone convinced Larim that he should act. When he stepped by her side, Brenna screamed once again at the sight of him and gathered her undergarments modestly in front of her.

"No, wait, it's okay," the other man was saying as he swam sloppily toward them. "We aren't going to hurt you. And we didn't see anything… well, maybe a little but not intentionally. I mean, we weren't looking to look; it just sort of happened."

"Real smooth, Rodney. Way to break the ice with the locals." The man reached a point where he could touch bottom, stood and continued toward them sluggishly on foot. Larim stepped in front of Brenna at that point, pulling his dagger and glaring angrily at the men in hopes that they would consider him a threat. It evidently worked because the one man held up an appeasing hand as the second man gained his feet and stood behind him. "Whoa, hey, we aren't going to hurt you or your girlfriend, buddy, so you can just put that thing away."

Larim didn't understand anything these men were saying and their strange words combined with their strange clothes and the even stranger way they had just appeared in the water made him reluctant to trust the soothing tone, so that he continued to hold the knife before him. "I don't think he understands me," the man whispered back over his shoulder to his companion. "Do you understand me?" he asked.

"What do you want? You are not welcome here. Go away and leave her alone!" Larim's angry demand was met with a confused stare.

"I don't understand a word he's saying," the man murmured back again. "Do you understand him?"

Larim took the opportunity to ask Brenna, "Do you understand what he is saying? Because I do not."

The girl shook her head then gripped his shoulder and warned, "Look out!" as she ducked further behind him when the other man responded in outrage.

"I understand he's going to stab us if we get any closer to them." Water flew as the man's arms flailed.

"You freaking out about it isn't helping the matter, McKay."

"Well, forgive me if I'm a little distressed by the fact that we're standing in a lake and not my lab back on Earth."

"How do you know we aren't on Earth?"

Larim followed where the angry man pointed into the sky. "Since when does Earth have two suns?"

"Then do something and get us back to your lab," the taller man ground out in annoyance.

"Sheppard, I don't know why you think I can somehow just snap my fingers and miraculously everything is going to be back to normal."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, the taller man rubbed at his forehead as if he had a headache. "Okay, look, we are stuck in the energy field, right?"

"Obviously," the other man snorted.

"Then how do we get out?"

"If I knew that, do you think I would still be standing here with pond scum gathering around my knees?"

"All right, let's think about this a different way. How did we get in it in the first place? You said it was contained and limited to that confinement area you had set up."

"Well, somehow it did." When the first man threw his arms up in frustration, the second man continued. "Colonel, we're talking about a theory that is based on randomness. By definition it's unpredictable. Everything we understand about physics says quantum tunneling shouldn't take place, but it does. So if it found a way to escape the confinement chamber, then I'm not _entirely_ surprised."

"You might have said something about that when you offered to show me the damn thing," the man growled.

"Do I have to warn you to watch out for asteroid impacts every time we step out the door? Because we have a better chance of that happening on the same day you win the lottery than the power field escaping confinement."

Larim started to coax Brenna toward the path, thinking that this might be a good time to slip away while the two men argued. But before they could take two steps back, the tall man turned his attention back to the two of them.

"Do you see a million dollar check in my hands, Rodney, because I don't. What I do see is you and me in a pond, a half naked woman and a guy with a knife blocking our path out of the pond, and no way to let them know we want to get out of the pond because we can't understand each other."

Larim raised the knife menacingly when the man pointed emphatically in his direction. What were they arguing about? How to attack them? Which one was going to attack them? What to do with their dead bodies after they attacked them? None of those were pleasant thoughts.

"And why the hell _can't_ we understand them?" His face twisted in bewilderment. "We can understand everyone else we come across."

The second man shrugged. "Probably because there isn't a stargate on this planet. There are theories that the gate somehow allows people from different worlds to communicate with each other."

"No stargate? You mean we're stuck here?"

"The two of us leaving this planet is controlled by the same mechanism as us arriving on this planet, which has absolutely nothing to do with the stargate."

"But is completely random?"

"More or less." The chin rose defiantly and the man almost lost his footing as he leaned back.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means two data points are not enough for me to extrapolate a pattern. We could jump back to Earth any second now, we could sit here for a day and a half before we jump to an entirely different planet or we could be here for the next fifty years and never jump again."

The two men stood as if waiting for something expectantly and Larim's eyes darted nervously in anticipation of what was to come. Brenna pressed her partially exposed breasts against his back and he wondered how such a good day had gone so horribly, horribly bad.

Finally, the taller man gave a disappointed frown. "It doesn't seem to be the any second option." When the other man shrugged in agreement he pointed toward the shore. "Might as well get out of the water if it's going to be the fifty years." Once again the other man shrugged and they started toward Larim and Brenna.

With a nervous lick of his lips, Larim brandished the blade dangerously. "Do not come any closer! I will kill you if I have to!"

The tall man shook his head exhaustedly at the warning and kept walking. "Kid, it's been a long day and I should be on my way to flirting with a scantly-clad cocktail waitress serving me watered-down free drinks at the craps table. And the fact that the only things in common between that scenario and this one is water, crap, and a scantly-clad woman isn't improving my mood any."

"I am serious! Come no closer!" When the man ignored him, Larim had no choice but to lunge at him with his knife.

Before he could blink his eyes, his own knife was pointed back in his face and Brenna let out a squeak of terror as she buried her face against his neck. "You over extended your reach, your weight distribution is off and you're gripping the hilt too tight. Be lucky it was me; Teyla would have had you over her knee for a spanking for such a pathetic form."

Eyes widened in fear, Larim barely dared to glance at the second man peering curiously over the shoulder of the one threatening him with his own knife. "Really? She really does that?"

The man with the knife rolled his eyes. "If I say yes will you show up for the occasional hand-to-hand training session?"

And just as suddenly as the knife was in his face, it was gone… and the men with it.

"Wha…what happened? Where did they go?" Looking around, Larim fully expected them to somehow jump out of the bushes and murder them both with the knife, _his_ knife. But they were nowhere to be seen and neither was his dagger. He had liked that knife; it had an ornately carved hilt of black onyx and a sharp blade. It had been gift for his sixteenth birth celebration and now it was gone. It had vanished into thin air as quickly as the potential for a good day had.

But all thoughts of knives and mysterious men vanished when Brenna launched herself into his arms and kissed him full on the lips.

"Larim, you were so brave!"

Then again, maybe it was worth losing a stupid knife if this was the compensation.

xxxx

Ka'tec had served his god well.

For twenty-six of his one hundred and fifty-three years, he had been First Prime to Horus. He had fought many battles over that time, leading his god's troops into the fray with honor and courage, and today had been no exception. Today, however, was to be his last. If the wound had happened to any other part of his body, his symbiote would have healed him. But the blast had killed his symbiote and now it was just a matter of time before he followed it into death. Sebok's troops were greater in number, but Horus's army held the position bravely and Ka'tec was convinced that even though he would fight no more battles for his god, the others would be victorious this day.

His eyesight was dimming, but it mattered little as the view of the battlefield was obscured by the wall he had fallen behind and he could still hear the blasts of staff weapons close by, the orders being shouted, the screams of their foes as death took them. They were soothing sounds, he decided, more common to him than his wife's voice calling his younger children in from play. Ha'nak was progressing well in his training and would soon be joining his god's forces in battle. He had hoped that they would serve together when his son first drew the blood of the enemy, but that was not to be. And there was no use in lamenting that fact, so he concentrated instead on the sounds of warfare that would accompany him in his death.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!"

The roar of the battle was interrupted by the frantic voice that settled close by.

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."

The second voice was calmer but obviously in pain and Ka'tec focused his vision enough to see two strangers, dripping wet, hunkering behind the wall a few feet away from where he lay.

"That's a staff weapon blast, Sheppard. You were shot by a goddamn staff weapon!"

"Seeing as it happened to me, Rodney, I kind of figured that out on my own." The injured man shifted with a grimace. "Aw, fuck, that hurts."

His caretaker tugged at the top of his shirt to expose the burns that covered his shoulder, neck and left arm. Running a shaking hand through his soaking wet hair– and how had they managed to get so wet? There was no water for miles around here– the second man gave a desperate look to his injured companion. "Christ. I don't know… we don't have anything… hell, I don't even know what to do if we did."

"It's all right, McKay." The injured one assured and Ka'tec decided he was no stranger to war.

The other man, however, obviously was. "That is a wound from a staff weapon," he insisted emphatically. "People die from those." His hand pointed to where Ka'tec lay as if in example and the Jaffa would have laughed if he was not so close to death.

"People die from bullet wounds, too, and I've my fair share of those along the way."

"Yeah, but we've always at least known of a way to get back to Carson and now we don't even have that."

A stray blast hit the wall sending stone shards flying. The uninjured man did his best to cover the wound and protect it, even as the injured one covered his companion's head as he did so. "Keep down!" he ordered. "Last thing we need is both of us hurt."

"Last thing we need is one of us dead," he countered before looking around hopefully. "We need to get out of here."

The injured one nodded in agreement before slumping down a little further. "Do you think we'll jump again anytime soon?"

The snort he received in answer was bitter. "I can only imagine where we would jump to. Dead center between two Jaffa armies in the heat of battle is kind of hard to top. What's next, a pit of snakes? A vat of acid? The center of a sun?"

"McKay," he spoke the name calmly in hopes of conveying the same to the other man, "do you think we will jump soon?"

"I don't know," the other admitted in defeat. "We stayed in the pond a little longer than in the desert so we might stay here a little longer still, but like I said before, we could never jump again."

Desert? Ponds? There were neither anyway near the area. He wondered if perhaps these slaves had been driven mad by the experience of witnessing the battle.

"There's Jaffa here, so that means there has to be a gate, right?"

"Probably, but what good does a gate do us?"

"We dial Earth, we go back to the SGC, they'll have doctors there, maybe a way to help us get out of the field."

Ka'tec had never heard of these strange places, which made him think that perhaps these men were in the service of Sebok and the god had expanded his hold of worlds. If only he were not mortally wounded, he would be able to warn Horus of the news.

"Colonel, do you have any idea what year it is? We don't even know if the SGC is in existence yet or still in existence. We could dial back to Earth and end up in ancient Egypt or an Earth overtaken by the Ori for all we know."

"Yeah, but we wouldn't be here." A flare of pain had the man fisting a hand into his friend's shirt and hissing another curse.

"You make a compelling argument, there," the second conceded as he patted the slowly relaxing hand in sympathy.

"Weapons," the other gritted, "we need weapons." And he tilted his head toward the fallen Jaffa.

"Oh, you can't be serious. Pry it from his cold, dead hand? How very Charlton Heston of you."

"Better his cold, dead hands than ours, McKay." Ka'tec could see him swallow as he slammed his head back against the wall in response to the pain.

A staff weapon blast was indeed painful; Ka'tec knew that from personal experience. He had received ten in his time as First Prime and many more prior to that, all healed by his symbiote, except, of course, for this last one. However, even the glancing blast that this man had received could be fatal to one of the slave race as they did not have the healing power given to the Jaffa by their gods. And he was almost impressed by how well such a lowly creature could handle the hurt.

His uninjured companion crawled over to where the Jaffa lay, reaching out a tentative hand to try to take the staff weapon he still grasped and Ka'tec shifted his eyes to better see him.

"Holy fuck!" He skittered back away at the action and the Jaffa smiled to himself, even though his lips were beyond such actions. "He's still alive!"

"So are we. But we won't be for much longer if you don't take his weapons."

With a torn look back at the man turning paler where he sat, the one Ka'tec had frightened drew closer again with a running dread-filled mumble. "Goddammit, goddammit, goddammit…"

He tried to tighten his grip, but it was no use. He was moments from death; let them take the weapon. He had fought bravely and died well. It was an honor to die in the service of Horus and those two would never live to see another day, it was obvious.

The image of the two faded as the staff slipped from his fingers but he heard the injured man remind, "The zat…take the zat, too." And the last words he heard in his mortal existence were, "Now, which way to the gate?"

xxxx

Horus was a prick.

Sebok had come to that conclusion long ago. Even when Horus had inhabited the body of a woman for several decades and didn't actually have a prick, he was still a prick. The thought caused the Goa'uld watching from his position near the gate as his army swarmed across his nemesis' forces to smile at his own joke. He made a mental note to share it with Ra the next time he saw him, after Horus was castrated once and for all, that was.

The battle had turned in Sebok's favor and with the chappa'ai in his control, there was no way that braggart Horus could bring in more troops quick enough to turn the tide. It was a pleasant feeling to know that victory was assured and he almost let the two slaves he saw working around the edge of the battlefield go through the ring unchallenged as a result. After all, one was obviously grievously wounded given the way he leaned heavily against the other. And the staff weapon in the hand of a slave was quite the ridiculous picture. Not to mention the outlandish clothing they wore. Horus had always considered himself a fashion trendsetter, but to dress his slaves like that? Honestly, he was doing Horus a favor by annihilating him like he was, otherwise he'd be the laughing stock of the system lords.

But as tempting as the thought was to let them escape, Sebok had actually grown bored sitting and just watching the battle. And the slaves offered him a nice distraction from the mundane task of overseeing his war. Ordering his private guard to maintain their posts, he strode the short distance to the dialing device where the two were trying to escape.

"This is unfair, slaves. Trying to leave before your puny god falls to his knees before me and you can swear allegiance to your one true deity."

They hadn't heard him approach– the injured one appeared to be barely conscious and the other was attempting to balance his charge and the staff weapon while activating the ring– so that he jumped in alarm when the Goa'uld spoke. The reaction made Sebok smile even as he raised his hand and sent them flying backward with his hand device.

The staff weapon rolled out of the slave's hand and the fact that the air had been knocked from his lungs afforded Sebok plenty of time to stroll to where he lay on the ground.

"Sheppard?"

The slave received no response to his groaned hail as the other slave was sprawled unmoving just out of his arms reach. Too bad, Sebok thought in disappointment as he noted the wound on the man's shoulder. He would just have to make do with slowly killing the one.

"Sheppard?"

The obvious distress of the slave as he rolled to try to reach the other man just made the Goa'uld realize what an opportunity he had missed. Torture was just so much more fun when it involved two. Perhaps they were brothers. Perhaps they were lovers. In the end, it didn't really matter as the emotional reaction to watching another die was almost identical, regardless of what the relationship.

"It appears that it is just to be the two of us," Sebok commiserated.

The man dove for the staff weapon and Sebok slammed his booted foot sharply on top of the hand. Letting out an incoherent yelp of pain, the slave gazed up imploringly. "Look, I know you probably won't believe this, but we don't have anything to do with this battle at allllllll!" The word stretched deliciously as he ground his boot and when he lifted it the hand was instantly cradled against the man's chest. But the pleading continued. "If you will just let us go through the gate, we'll get out of your hair. Which is very nice, by the way. I like the braids and the loops and the headdress really sets off…"

Sebok cut off the prattle with the weapon attached to his palm. That was the problem with those in the service of the enemy; they were either talking too much or not talking at all. But the ribbon device always solved that problem, no matter which it was. The slave rose to his knees as his muscles spasmed, his back arched involuntarily, and his mouth opened in a gasp for air as the beam accessed the pain centers of his mind. Yes, that was much better than all that blabbering.

Sebok was just trying to decide if he wanted to push the man into unconsciousness or keep him lucid for a while longer when he was suddenly enveloped in a field of his own. The hand device shut off and the slave that had been under its power crumpled to the ground just as the Goa'uld did and that's when he realized the second slave wasn't dead and was, in fact, in possession of a zat'ni'katel.

Keeping the weapon fixed on the incapacitated god, he managed to drag himself over to other slave. "Rodney, you okay?"

The man's hands were curled into fists on either side of his head. "Fuck," he panted, "I think my brain… is going to explode."

"No, it's not." The words were just as much an order as a comfort and he placed his hand on the other man's head until his breathing evened out. "Can you stand up?"

"Yeah," he grimaced as he opened his eyes again. "Can you?"

"If you help me get to my feet, I'll stay there," the slave assured and Sebok wished he was free of the paralysis so he could knock them both down to their knees again.

The two men staggered to their feet, the slave Sebok had just begun to play with when he was so rudely interrupted shook his head. "Holy crap, Sheppard, I think you just took down a system lord."

"Good, that means when I fry his ass with the second blast I'll be within my standing orders from the SGC." The one with the zat'ni'katel prepared to fire once again.

"Colonel, you can't kill him."

"He was in the process of killing you, McKay. I'm just going to return the favor." The vicious curl of lips on the slave's face was almost ruined by the way he swayed where he stood. But Sebok didn't doubt that the man meant every word. And the fact that a slave was so confident that he could kill a god was more disturbing than the fact that this one was prepared to kill him.

"We can't change history. Who knows what role he's supposed to play?"

"I'm voting for the dead false god role. Now, dial the gate."

"Colonel, you can't…"

"Dial the gate, Rodney."

With an irritated wave of arms, he did as instructed, grumbling as he pressed the tiles, "Fine, but if you aren't born because of this, don't come crying to me to fix it."

The slave with the weapon, the one that had called him a _false_ god, the one that evidently knew more than any slave ever should, frowned, but he never lowered the zat'ni'katel, and the Goa'uld knew his life hung in the balance.

The whooshing sound indicated that the circle had opened and the one who had activated it walked to his fellow slave's side. "Come on, Sheppard, let's go." He held out his hand for the weapon and the other continued to consider his option. But before a decision could be made, both sets of eyes widened. "It's happening again."

"Get to the gate!" the one threatening Sebok's life snapped and the two men moved quickly out of his view.

When he was finally able to move again, his personal guard had found him and the two were gone. Brushing off the guard's assistance, he stood and ordered his First Prime, "Call back the troops and send a message to Horus that I want to meet with him."

"Yes, my lord," the Jaffa bowed before leaving to see to his commands but Sebok watched him go with a disturbing wariness he had never felt before.

Slaves that knew who they really were was much more important than a petty squabble. It always ended the same anyway… thousands of Jaffa dead and the two of them still very much alive and stuck refilling the ranks of their army. As much fun as that could be, there were more serious matters to attend to. If the slaves knew, then there was a chance the Jaffa did as well, or would soon enough. And that was one reality that Sebok had no wish to face. Horus may be a prick, but the prick you know is better than the prick you don't.

Frowning at his analogy he decided maybe that was one he wouldn't share with Ra, the man took things out of context so easily.

xxxx

When Adina had realized the ring had opened, she had woke Mani and Wirake and sent them to meet the travelers. In the past, she would have gone herself to give them a proper greeting, but her arthritis pained her in the cold and so she left the fetching to the younger folk and prepared to welcome them before the comfort of the hearth. Besides, the lodge was only a ten-minute walk from the portal, and with the full moon and clear sky they would have no doubt seen the smoke from the fire, but it was best to make sure they did not wander off in the wrong direction and become lost on the ice.

Wrapping her thickest robe around her shoulders, she set to making tea and had Mani's mate, Kimba, warm some of the stew from supper. The commotion woke Kimba's daughter and Adina bent over the baby, chubby hands grasping and the end of her braid that dangled over the bed as she shushed her. Rocking the basket gently with a metallic clink of her bracelets, she cooed, "Shhh, little one, family is coming." It had been a long time since anyone had visited. The few Original that still dwelt on this world or the others nearby rarely came through the ring anymore, and those that had gone ahead had other means of visiting if they saw fit.

The infant settled back into slumber quickly, her sleepy sighs blending harmoniously with the sounds of the other sleeping inhabitants of the shelter. It was a familiar sound to the old woman, one she often listened to as she sat and stoked the fire at night. She had found that the older she grew, the less sleep she seemed to need, and waking in the middle of the night to soak in the presence of her people had become a common practice. She had been born in this same lodge, as had her mother, and her mother's mother, unlike her grandmother's parents. They had been brought across the great water from a land of dry heat and red sands so that the Original could help them reach their potential. Although from the stories her grandmother had told her as a child, it was more from loneliness that they had recruited the native inhabitants of this world than a higher purpose in advancing a race.

Many over the years had left with the Original, in their flying craft or through the shining face of the portal. Her own children, carriers of the bloodline she had passed on to them, had been among those that went off into the unknowns of this world. Others had gone ahead and never looked back. But not Adina. She had been born on the ice and had chosen to spend the rest of her days here. A decision she had never once regretted and the tribe seemed to respect that decision and honored her for her service to them.

By the time the front door opened with a gust of wind and blowing snow, the water for the tea was boiling. It was a good thing she had sent an escort; the two men that entered the common dwelling of her people might have frozen to death before they ever reached it if she hadn't. Mani had given them his fur wrap and still they were shivering as they huddled together under it. The first thing that struck her about the men was that there was ice in their hair and on the exposed legs of their pants, suggesting they had been wet when they came through. The second was how the dark-haired man stumbled and the other took a little more of his weight with a mumbled, "Easy, Sheppard, we're almost there," indicating that it was more than heat he was gaining from his companion. Injured, then. Injured and lost… because who would knowingly come to the ice soaking wet? And in need of shelter and food and time. Yes, she decided, they definitely needed some time. It was doubtful she could give them as much as they needed, but she would do what she could.

When they reached where she sat before the fire, she indicated the furs set out before her, "Come, sit, warm yourselves. You are welcome here."

The two dropped heavily to their knees, the injured one seemed on the verge of doing it even without her invitation, and his eyes fought to focus on her. "Thank you." Even through the slight slur she could hear the genuine gratitude.

"We need a doctor," the other said without preamble, "a medicine man, someone to treat injuries. I don't suppose you have anything like that around here, do you?"

Pushing her grey braid off her shoulder, Adina moved forward to the injured man. "We have medical knowledge. I will attend to your friend as best I can." Pulling back the furs, she could see the angry red of the wound and feel the warmth coming off of it. "Kimba," she called to the young woman, "bring me my satchel."

Flicking her eyes up at the men, she decided they were not going to make formal introductions as protocol required. Best then that she do it herself. "I am Adina, by the way."

As if realizing he was remiss, the one man blinked in surprise. "Oh, I'm Dr. Rodney McKay and this is Lt. Colonel John Sheppard." The way Dr. Rodney McKay looked to the other man made Adina think that introductions were something that usually fell to Lt. Colonel John Sheppard.

"Such long names," she observed, sitting back to retrieve the two mugs of tea that should have finished steeping by then. "Conversations on your world must take a very long time."

"Call us John and Rodney," the wounded one offered, taking the mug with the hand on his uninjured side and sloshing the beverage as he shook. Rodney ignored his own cup and helped John get his to his mouth. John did not seem too pleased to require the assistance, nodding shortly when he had had enough.

Rodney seemed to take it in stride, taking up his own cup after a quick glance toward and another nod from John. "Or Dr. McKay. If you feel more comfortable with that, then I'm fine with it."

"McKay, these people are helping us, I think we can skip the formalities."

"I'm just saying if she feels uncomfortable being on a first name basis with strangers…"

Adina cut into the argument with a small smile. "Rodney and John will work just fine." Kimba returned with the bag and the old woman indicated the bed closest to the fire. "If you will lie down, I will tend your wound." Rodney helped John to his feet, the motion causing John to wince in pain, and walked him to the bed. "It would be best if we removed the garment."

Rodney rolled his eyes as Adina and Kimba helped John remove the wet shirt, then he took a strange, curved, metallic object from John before the women covered the injured man's lower half with more blankets to try to warm him. "It never fails that you always find a way to end up bare-chested," he taunted, but the man blanched white when the wound was completely revealed and pulled the furs around his shoulder tighter.

Adina frowned and squinted, finally shaking her head in frustration at her failing eyesight. "Light." At her command the ceiling to the lodge lit.

The two men exchanged wide-eyed expressions of shock, Rodney snapping his fingers and pointing at her. "You! You have the gene!"

Adina continued her study of the shoulder. "If you mean that I am of the bloodline, then, yes, I am. My grandfather was one of the Original that returned from their world of water many, many years ago. The two of you have it, as well, although weaker. And yours, Rodney, is somehow… different."

The old woman almost snickered at the frown she received in response. "It still works," he insisted.

"I am sure that it does… in a limited capacity."

The imminent retort never made it from his lips as he looked around as another thought occurred to him. "Oh my God, Sheppard, it worked. Dialing Earth, it worked."

"This doesn't look like the SGC to me," John challenged, sucking in a breath as Adina pressed gently at the wound.

"We didn't go to that gate; we went to the Antarctic gate. The SGC gate's probably buried in Egypt or maybe it hasn't even been built yet. I'm not sure exactly when on Earth we are but I'm guessing not long after the Ancients returned to Earth from Atlantis, but we're definitely in Antarctica. Evidently the gate buffered us from changing locations but it didn't stop us from slipping through time."

"How does being back on Earth ten thousand years before the SGC was founded help us exactly?"

Adina had busied herself mixing the poultice that she thought would alleviate the pain. The actual healing would come once the area was numb. Her skills were not as strong as the Original and took several treatments. But she was fully expecting the question that came next from Rodney.

"These Original, are there any still here?"

"No, they left long ago. Some went ahead to a higher existence, others around this world to meet other people. Some to other worlds in the stars."

"Did they have a facility near here? A place they lived, worked, came and went from?"

"They did," she told him simply as she began to apply the medicinal paste. "We return there from time to time for food and other supplies. The ice only provides so much." And the Original had promised to provide the rest when they had brought her people there generations in the past. She was as close to living proof of that as anyone would get. "Does that feel better?" she inquired of John.

"Actually, yeah, it does." The lines softened around his eyes as the numbing started to spread.

"Can you take me there?" Rodney asked desperately as Adina turned to mixing the powdered pain medication with John's tea.

"It is several hours walk to the only remaining opening that leads down through the ice, but the boys can take you, if you want to go." And maybe that would be for the best, she decided. She could talk to John in private that way.

John, however, did not agree. "McKay, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"If I can get to the facility, I might be able to find something to help us escape the energy field."

Finishing down the bitter drink with a grimace, he countered, "And just what do you think you're going to find there that you haven't already in our time? You probably know that facility as well as these people."

"The energy field is based on Ancient technology. If I can access the database and look for specific information on the component systems we utilized and the work Janus did here, maybe I can figure out how to get us out."

Adina rolled her eyes at the name. She should have known this was partially her grandfather's fault. It would explain why he had given her warning that the men would come and his intervention with the others would allow her to slow the flow for a little while longer.

John frowned harder at the rationalization. "You know, we've been gone for quite a while. Surely they've missed us back at 51 by now and eventually they'll put two and two together. What if they just turn the unit off?"

"Then we may never get back. We'll probably be stuck wherever and whenever we are when the unit shuts down. Besides, time passage in the field is different than outside the field. We may get back and years have passed, or it could have just been a few seconds." When John didn't respond, only looked like he wanted to hit something, Rodney pressed his advantage. "The sooner we figure out a way to get back, the better our chances of getting back to the time we left. And the outpost is just too good of an opportunity to pass up."

John started to speak, stopped, then finally asked, "What if we jump while you're gone? Will we end up in the same place or in different times and on completely different planets?"

Rodney seemed to deflate then, looking unsure of himself for the first time since they had entered the lodge. "I don't… I don't know."

"Alone, on an unknown world; those aren't optimal field conditions, McKay."

"Oh, and I suppose these are? Have you taken a look at us, Sheppard? We're in wet street clothes, no medical supplies, no food, no water… not exactly my definition of optimal."

"And adding 'no teammate' to the list somehow makes that better? What happens if you end up back in the middle of a battlefield?" Adina checked the cream on his shoulder and John cursed at the touch.

"Forgive me; I had hoped it would have taken the pain by now."

He tried to apologize but Rodney interrupted him before he could. "And what happens when their herbs and potions don't work?" Turning to the old woman he held up a hand. "No offense, but is that going to have any chance in hell of treating that wound?"

"No, the salve will not heal him," Adina admitted. "It was my hope to make him more comfortable and ease the pain."

"Sheppard, I practically carried you here from the gate. You're burning up with fever. That is a serious burn and it needs treatment. Real, medical treatment. I helped Carson catalog most of the medical equipment that he found at both facilities. If nothing else, I could at least maybe find something to help you."

John shook his head. "I'm the team leader, it's my call, and I say no going it alone."

"That team doesn't exist anymore, Colonel. I'm making my own decisions."

John looked as if Rodney had punched him in the face and Rodney looked as if he wished he could take back what he had said but was too stubborn to do it. Boys. Adina had never bore a son of her own, three daughters instead, but she had looked upon all the tribe as her children and she had seen this behavior more times than she could count. And whether the result was a bloodied nose or a bruised ego, the resultant hurt was the same and usually just as unintentional.

With a shooing motion for Rodney, she decided it was time she stepped in. "Your yelling will wake everyone in the lodge. Go, sit by the fire and dry yourself. No one is going back on the ice with wet clothing and not before dawn and that is still several hours away."

"But, I can't wait that long, we could jump before I even get a chance to head out."

Rodney's protest was met with a shove from the old woman. "You will not leave this world so soon. Sit, eat, rest. You will need them all for the time to come."

"How do you know we won't jump so soon?" There was as much suspicion as there was curiosity in the question.

But Adina was not to be swayed. "What world is this that you hail from that you have never been taught to respect your elders?"

She honestly did not know how long she would be allowed to slow the flow, but she had spoken the truth. Rest and dry clothes would serve them more than anything Rodney thought he might find in the facility. The answer to their problem did not lie there and both men knew it if they would both just take the time to stop and think things through.

Rodney, settling on the floor by the fire, took the bowl of stew Kimba offered, and turned his back in a sulk. Well, at least they were no longer arguing to wake the lodge and she could turn her attention back to John's shoulder. Placing her hands once again on the wound, she began the healing touch she had inherited from the Original. John closed his eyes and swallowed down a yelp and Adina braced herself as the pain transferred to her own body. She would only be able to treat a wound this severe in small spurts or she herself would be overcome. Rodney glanced back worriedly at the sound and Adina indicated his bowl with a weary hitch of her head.

"Eat your food, Rodney, all will be well." Placing a hand on John's forehead, she felt the fever still burned, but that would pass eventually. "Rest, now. When you wake, you can eat and regain some of your strength."

"Feel… weird," he mumbled drowsily.

"That is to be expected. And the medicine in the tea will make you sleepy. Rest. I will check on you again a while later."

He fell almost instantly into sleep and Adina swayed with her first step toward her seat by the fire. Kimba took her by the arm and led her the rest of the way. "Thank you, dear one." And Adina placed an affectionate hand on the mass of dark curls as the younger woman tucked furs tight across the elder's legs.

The ebony face, much darker and more beautiful than her own, turned up and smiled back even as Kimba chided quietly, "You will harm yourself for these strangers if you are not more cautious."

"Fear not, child. I will not be leaving you so soon." She had stayed behind, even as she had moved beyond, something that no one had ever been allowed to do before. But perhaps the others felt guilty for abandoning their charges and although that guilt was not enough for them to stay, it was enough for them to allow her to act in their stead. "Besides, these strangers need my help more than anyone right now and their time with us is limited so I must do what I can in the time that I have." With a gentle pat she told the girl, "Make some broth for when John awakes. I will take the time to rest myself."

When Kimba went to her task, Adina glanced toward Rodney, who was picking at his meal. "Shall I grind it small and feed it to you like a newly weaned babe or will you chew it on your own?"

Rodney simply frowned but took a bite and then another. Satisfied that he would finish the food, she closed her eyes and dozed by the fire. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she woke to the soft croak of John's voice.

"McKay?"

Rodney seemed to wake from a snooze just as Adina had, sitting abruptly and looking around in confusion. "Here." Remembering where he was and who had called, he stood quickly and moved to John's side. "What's wrong? Do you need something? More of that…stuff the old woman put on you?"

"Take the zat," he told the anxious man hovering above him.

"And do what?" Rodney's brow creased in worry. "Oh, crap, you're not hallucinating from the fever are you?"

"Take the zat with you when you go to the Ancient base," John clarified. "In case we jump and never… in case we get separated."

"Oh, right." Rodney shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "Good idea."

"You remember how it works, right?" Rodney nodded his head that he did, but John went on with his instruction anyway. "One shot disables, two shots kills, and three shots vaporize the evidence."

"Yes, yes. I've been associated with the SGC longer than you. Remember?"

"I just want to make sure you don't panic over a snow drift and take out your guides by getting trigger happy, is all."

Adina had seen the teasing smirk on John's face, but that did not stop Rodney from looking to her nervously and assuring, "I'm not going to shoot them. He's exaggerating."

"I am old, Rodney, not without a sense of humor," Adina assured him with a roll of her brown eyes.

"Well, I'm actually a very good shot… most of the time. And like he said, the first shot doesn't kill…"

"Rodney," John cut him off before he could make the two men assigned to accompany him any more uneasy. "I think you should stop talking now if you don't want to head across the ice on your own."

"Yeah, you're probably right." As if trying to decide what else he should say, Rodney rocked back on his heels before finally speaking again. "Look, Sheppard, what I said earlier, about the team…"

"Was the truth," John interrupted. "You're right, Rodney; the team was the past. Maybe not as far in the past as we are right now, but it's still over and done."

"Yeah, well, just because it's the truth doesn't stop it from sucking out loud."

"No," John agreed, "it doesn't. So, just take the zat and get back here as soon as you can. Okay? Because the only thing that sucks worse than the team breaking up is me saying goodbye to former teammates."

Rodney nodded silently, then looked up at the roof as if he could see the dim light of dawn. "So… I guess I should get going. Do you need anything before I take off?"

"I think Adina has things under control here."

Hearing her name, the old woman pushed herself up from her seat. "Mani and Wirake will show you the way. Do not worry; your brother will be well cared for."

"Oh, we're not related… we just work… well, technically, we don't even do that anymore…"

"Rodney, you talk more than you should." Elbowing her way past him to check the wound once more, she snapped, "Trust that an old woman knows what she sees and that she sees what you obviously refuse to. Birth did not make you one of the bloodline, nor did it make you John's brother. But that does not change the fact that you are still both. Now, wrap yourself in the furs; the sun does little during this season to warm the way."

"I guess it's time to go," Rodney grumbled behind the woman's back.

"I guess so," John grinned and Adina had a feeling that Rodney rarely met anyone that he backed down from easily.

Doing as he was told, Rodney wrapped the furs around himself after securing the zat to the loop of his pants. Adina thought that he was going to leave without saying anything else, but he stopped before reaching the door. "You know, Colonel, even without the team, we make a pretty good team."

John grinned again, this time with a touch of melancholy. "See you around, McKay."

"See you around, Sheppard." And Rodney turned and left the lodge in a gust of swirling snow.

John watched him go then stared blankly up at the roof of the lodge with a sigh. Adina placed her hands once more on his shoulder. "Mani and Wirake have made the trip many times; he will be safe."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll do everything in their power to watch over him. And if it were anyone else besides McKay, I'd trust you'd be right." Adina started her work and John sucked in a ragged breath.

"I am sorry; the talent is not as strong in me as in my mother. She would have had your wound healed by now."

"You're ascended, aren't you?" John managed to grit out between teeth clenched against the pain.

"I am many things." The elderly woman removed her hand to appraise her work. The skin was still warm to the touch but the flesh was a soft pink instead of a scorched and bloody red and she was sure the fever would pass on its own soon enough. When her knees weakened, she sat on the edge of John's cot. "I have some talents but I am also just an old woman with an old woman's failings."

"But you know we're not supposed to be here in this time." It was as much a question as a statement.

"There is a saying among my people: the ice does not care if your feet are cold." She patted his arm. "Perhaps you are not supposed to be here, perhaps you are. The reasons, the causes, they are not important. In the end, all that matters is that you warm your toes."

"So, how do we do that?"

Reaching across John to retrieve the bowl of broth Kimba had prepared for him, she told him, "My grandfather was fascinated with time. He told me once that it is not a straight line, but is like a river. I have only seen a river once in my life, when I was a young girl and traveled with my grandparents to a land with green trees and black earth." Adina closed her eyes and smiled. "I can still remember the smell of that place─ dense and thick with the fragrance of life and death woven together like a basket. Not at all like the sharp, clean, scent of the ice." She opened her eyes again and cleared her head with a small shake. "But the river was wild, untamed, with currents and eddies and backwaters and I remember thinking a person could fall in there and be lost forever. When my grandfather asked why I was frightened, I asked, 'what should I do if I fall in?' And he told me, 'swim for shore'."

Using the back of his hand, John wiped at a bit of broth on his chin. "I'm not sure we know how to swim for shore."

"Before you succeed at a task, you must first want to."

John's eyes narrowed. "You're not going to tell me how to get out of this field, are you?"

Adina sighed, "I have told you all that I can. As much as I would like to help you more, I have other responsibilities."

She looked around at the people appearing from their sleeping pallets and gathering around the common hearth to prepare their morning meals. Her people. She could not risk losing them, at least not so soon. At one point, there had been three other lodges but the people had left, one way or another they always did. Now there were less than fifty members of the tribe. In a few generations, they would be gone all together, along with all traces that they had existed. Then she would be free to choose her fate, but until that time her place was here and her loyalty was here. She had already risked so much just slowing the flow like she had.

Turning her attention back to John, she continued. "Just as you have responsibilities. Soon you will have a choice to make and you will have to decide where your own loyalties lie, where your home lies."

Atlantis, the great city that had been here ages past, which had flown among the stars and now lay at the bottom of the ocean. Eventually it would rise again. Her grandfather had met a woman traveler lost in the flow much like John and Rodney and he had helped her to make sure that it did indeed rise. Now it had fallen to Adina to help two men that would ensure that it survived the attack that would take place far in her future and in a matter of day in the future of John and Rodney. But first the two must return to their own time. As much as the others wanted to save Atlantis, they would not break their own rules, and Adina had pushed them as far as she had been allowed. So now it was up to them. The confused expression on John's face, did not improve her confidence in their ability to do so.

"Can you at least tell me if McKay and I will end up on the same planet when we jump again?"

Not so much confused as worried, then. That she could understand. Standing, she told him what she could, "Rodney headed straight into the rising sun; that will not change for his entire journey." Moving to her seat by the fire, she lamented, "I am getting too old for this much excitement. I need a little nap before I can finish healing that shoulder."

"It feels much better," John assured her. "Thank you."

"Then you will not mind if I doze for a bit." She settled heavily, waving a hand at Kimba to stay where she was and finish nursing her daughter.

"No, go right ahead."

Taking John's approval, she closed her eyes. "I honestly do wish I could help you more, John. It is good to know that the bloodline has continued so strong throughout the generations."

"We appreciate all the help you've given us."

"And I bid you firm footing on your passage and warm destinations for your journeys to come." And with a final yawn, she slept.

Kimba woke her later, the baby down for her midmorning nap and the lodge abuzz with activity. "The stranger is gone."

She was not surprised by the news in the least. "Did Rodney return before they left?"

Kimba shook her head reluctantly. And it was over two hours before Mani and Wirake returned to the lodge to deliver the same news.

xxxx

_TBC_


	2. Variable 2: Distance

_a/n Thanks again to Koschka and Kodiak for the beta help and to everyone who reviewed the first chapter_. _ We're about halfway there! _

**Variable 2: Distance**

_Distance equals rate times time._

_Any C student in Middle School could tell you that one. Distance equals rate times time. In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue. The shortest distance between two points is always a straight line. I think, therefore I am. I before E except after C… _

_Exceptions. There's always an exception. Distance equals rate times time, except if you're dealing with non-Newtonian physics and then it all becomes relative. If Columbus had been sailing at a rate approaching the speed of light, he might have found himself in the blue Oceans of the Pacific in 1942, battling a Japanese sub during World War II. The curving tunnel of a wormhole can get you between Points A and B faster than any straight line ever could. And I before E… I before everything, I before every_one

_That's how I'd lived my life up until Atlantis. I, Dr. Meredith Rodney McKay, was the center of the universe. I thought, therefore I was, and anyone that disagreed with what I thought could go to hell. But then things changed, for once for the better. And then they changed again for the worse. When I was a kid in school, there were nine planets in the solar system, now there were only eight. Pluto had been demoted like an academic that wasn't producing enough peer-reviewed journal articles to suit the dean's taste, and just like that, the solar system was a little… less. Yet, how many solar systems were there in the galaxy? How many galaxies in the universe?_

_For me there had been two: Pegasus and Milky Way. But then came the exception when the Ancients returned. You can know Atlantis exists except you can't be a part of it anymore. You can know the wonders are there except you can no longer explore them. You can remember what it was like to be a part of something bigger than yourself, except you can't be a part of it any longer. You can make friends and come to find yourself dependent on them, except you can't be with them again._

_I before E… there was no I in team, but then again, there was no longer any team. We were separated by a distance that seemed to grow exponentially the longer we were apart. And I had once again become a lone object in orbit, except, like Pluto, I really wasn't alone, it just felt that way. _

_Distance equals rate times time. _

_Distance… distance didn't seem to be our problem any more, it was time that had me and Sheppard trapped. Jumping between centuries, between multiverses, between possibilities. Except, distance really was the culprit. Nevada and Colorado aren't that far apart, not compared to the Milky Way and Pegasus. But this wasn't Newtonian physics we were dealing with here. And the distance really was relative, in every definition of the word._

"_Rodney." Sheppard's voice was understanding, sympathetic, and I found myself hating the fact that he felt he had to be that way with me. I'd rather bicker and squabble and trade smart-ass barbs, because that would mean everything was back to normal. Everything was how it should be. But it wasn't. And who the hell knew if it ever would be again. I before E, there's no going back to that frame of mind no matter how much time and distance passed and no matter how much I really needed to for my own good. When you got down to the crux of the matter, Pluto hadn't changed, the rules had._

"_Rodney, I need your help here, buddy. You need to focus, okay?" I fought through the fog to concentrate on his face. No way in hell could I look at that shirt without the threat of having a seizure, so I looked on a face filled with worry and exhaustion and determination and hated how it made me feel a little more. Satisfied that he had my attention, he spoke slowly and clearly. "Think about _when_ we are in the solar system."_

_When. Now there was a novel concept. When would things be back to normal? When would we get back to Atlantis? When would distance and time, history and future, science and humanities, all of it come back together into an existence that I had come to expect?_

_Distance equals rate times time. But it was more complicated than that, wasn't it? Train A leaves its station heading north bound traveling sixty kilometers per hour while Train B leaves its station heading south bound traveling eighty kilometers per hour, both trains' velocities are increasing exponentially every minute. How long before they reach the speed of light? How long before they overtake Christopher Columbus' ships? How long before they travel that shortest distance and collide head first into one another? How long before Sheppard and I did the same?_

"_McKay, do you understand what I'm asking you to do?"_

_I understood. I understood we were about to jump again. I understood we had seen our possible past, our potential future and now we needed to get back to where this all started. We needed to get back to the when of the conundrum, the where of our journey, the how of our very existence, the why of the exceptions to our rules._

_So, I thought about it, as the world slid sideways and took us with it. When does distance equal rate times time? When do the exceptions no longer apply? When does the universe listen to me for once and give us a goddamn break?_

_When I say it does._

_I think, therefore I am._

_And I think it's time to go home. But since I knew that wasn't going to happen, I thought about the next best thing._

xxxx

Barton McClain had had one hell of a week.

He'd run out of gas twice waiting in line at the gas station; the first time he'd only had enough cash on him to buy half a tank, which was definitely a contributing factor to the second time he'd ended up pushing his Monte Carlo the last few yards to reach the pump. Any other time, that would be the worst thing that could have happened to him in one week. But then, when he finally made it home after that first fateful empty tank, it had been to find his bags packed on the front porch with a note from his wife explaining that she had fallen in love with her regional Amway director– he knew it had been a mistake to let her work outside the home, even if it was from inside the home– and they were hosting a sales party that night and if he would be good enough not to make a scene and just take his things and go, she'd call him in a few days to work out the details of the divorce.

He had thought of doing just the opposite, of storming into the living room and knocking the buffet table over and calling her a lying, two-faced whore in a flurry of fondue cheese and cocktail wieners as six other supposedly happily married couples looked on. But then the practical businessman side of him took over and he realized the more income she had on her own, the less he'd have to pay in alimony and to hell with the past fourteen years of his life that he had wasted on buying her go-go boots, false eyelashes and Twiggy-cut wigs to go on her Shelly Winter's shaped body. So, instead he had taken the high road and taken up residence in the Howard Johnson's on the outskirts of Idaho Falls, which had led to the second time he had run out of gas.

His commute to the office had increased by five miles each way, which meant his average gas consumption had also increased. Combine that with the half tank he was working with– and the day before had been an even numbered day and his license plate was, of course, odd– and it was no wonder he had ended up sitting in the line that very morning when he should have already been at work. The call into his boss's office when he finally did arrive, topped off by the talk, was just icing on the goddamn cake.

"You've been a great member of the team, Bart, and it's nothing personal, but we're in a recession, you know. Nixon fucked us over good, and handing the reigns to that bastard Ford hasn't helped one damn bit. So, it kills me to have to do this, it really does, Bart. I mean you're practically family and all. But those sons of bitches in Washington… what are you going to do?"

Bart had sat in the leather chair, looked around the wall at the pictures of his boss and his family vacationing in the Caribbean, his boss playing golf at Pebble Beach, his boss standing next to his brand new Corvette, and decided the real sons of bitches were sitting in this office and screwing his wife and they could both just kiss his ass.

So, he had stood, shook his bosses hand, left everything sitting in his office except one crucial item, went straight down to the local savings and loan and withdrew a hundred thousand dollars from the company account. Why would they shut down his access? After all, he was an accountant. Meek little Barton McClain would never do anything like that. He didn't have the balls. He had the beginnings of a comb over and a mousy little mustache and a few extra pounds on his forty-two-year-old frame and a band of white flesh on his left ring finger that was seeing the sun for the first time in fourteen years.

He also had the company checkbook in the top drawer of his desk.

And now he found himself about two hundred miles south of Butte, Montana with an empty McDonald's bag, two suitcases full of clothes and a briefcase full of money. A briefcase that was just slightly lighter since he had bought a new outfit and a new .44 Remington Magnum. If it was good enough for Dirty Harry, it was good enough for Barton McClain. The new-and-improved, kick-your-ass Barton McClain. Besides, a man on the run needed protection.

Canada sounded like as good a place to go as any. He wasn't sure what the exchange rate was these days, but with a hundred thousand dollars he had the flexibility of being off a few percent. He also wasn't sure about the extradition laws, but they'd have to find him first and it would likely take a day or two before the company even realized the money was gone. He could cover a lot of ground in two days if all went well. And it was about time the powers that be cut him a little slack and things went his way for a change.

But when the man seemingly appeared out of thin air a few yards ahead of his car and slamming on the brakes only kept him from running him down at top speed, he decided the powers that be didn't seem to have cutting him some slack in mind. More like cutting off his balls after a few well-placed kicks to them first.

The car fishtailed wildly when the brakes locked and the man rolled up on the hood with a thud before rolling back off again. The cup of soda from his lunch-on-the-road went flying as he fought for control of the car. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit!" Slamming his hand on the steering wheel, that was the only thing he could think to say, so he decided to say it again. "Oh, _shit_! Okay, Bart, what do you do? Think, think, think."

He could just drive off and leave him. No one would ever know it was him that had been here. But he wasn't a killer; an embezzler, sure, but not a killer. Besides, a semi was already pulling up behind him, so he did the only thing he could do and climbed out of the car.

The man lay unmoving on the asphalt, shirtless, with a nasty looking burn on his shoulder to accompany the road rash that was reddening as he watched. Had the car done that, or had it happened before? Actually, the more he looked at it, the burn seemed to be partially healed instead of brand new. Oh, hell, did it really matter? No, no it didn't. Right now he needed to figure out what to do. What should he do? What should he _do_? Check for a pulse. Yeah, that's what. Squatting beside him, he placed a finger at the man's throat like they did in the movies. Honestly, he had no clue what the pulse should even feel like, much less where it was located, but it ended up he didn't need to know.

As soon as he touched the man, he moaned. "M'kay?"

"Well, 'okay' may be an overstatement for how you are," Bart mumbled as he took in the dog tags the man was wearing. Military then. Maybe had had received the burn in Vietnam. Tilting his head, he could just make out the name: Sheppard.

"Aw, hell, he ain't dead is he?"

The trucker had Bart nearly jumping out of his skin. "N...no, he's alive. I think he's just stunned. I… I didn't see him. All of a sudden he was just standing there in front of me."

"East…have t' go… east," the man mumbled even as he tried to open his eyes.

"Highway blindness," the trucker justified for him. "Wouldn't be the first man to not see something right in front of you. Although why the hell he didn't get out the way, there ain't no telling. I'll get on my radio, call in some help."

"What?" Bart demanded in alarm.

"State police can send out an ambulance," the trucker spit to either accentuate his point or give his opinion of the police. "He probably needs to see a doctor."

_Shit_! The last thing Bart needed was the cops showing up and asking questions and checking his car. He had to think fast. He had to come up with a way for the trucker to let him go and not call the cops and still get the guy to a doctor. "No! I'll take him." When the trucker gave him a funny look he stumbled on. "It'll take forever for an ambulance to get out here. Just help me get him in my car and I'll take him to the nearest hospital."

"Well, the closest one of those is probably twenty miles back behind us."

"Then that's where I'll take him. Just help me load him into my car."

The trucker shrugged in that it's-your-life-not-mine sort of way and knelt on the man's opposite side. The shirtless man's eyes rolled between the two as they looked down on him. "Need to find McKay," he slurred drunkenly and they managed to pull him up to a sitting position.

"Sure you do, mister," Bart assured as he slung the man's arm around his shoulder. "Just as soon as we get you checked out by a doctor."

"No time. Could jump. Have to find him." Bart and the trucker hefted him to his feet and his head lolled, then snapped up as he tried even harder to focus.

"Son, you can't even walk; I think jumping's plum out of the question," the trucker chuckled as they all but dragged the man to the car. "In fact, you're probably going to be so sore tomorrow that you won't want to do anything but lay up for a couple of days."

Bart pushed the bags of new clothes out of the way so they could maneuver him into the front seat, and the man continued to protest. "No. Can't leave. Have to find… McK…"

The man slipped back into unconsciousness, slumping against the seat and the truck driver frowned in thought. "Maybe he was in a wreck near here. Maybe this McKay guy is still in the car hurt worse than him."

Oh, God, Bart did not need this. He needed to be in Canada by morning, not hauling a stranger to the hospital, much less searching the Idaho wilderness for a missing man. "Maybe you should drive on ahead a ways," Bart suggested. "See if you see the wreck. I'll go take this one to the hospital back in the last town."

"That's a fine idea. You're a good man, mister. What you're doing, well, it's downright Christian of you."

Barton couldn't help but glance up at the clear blue sky to see if the impending lighting bolt was about to descend on his head. "Yeah, well, we all do what we can."

With a quick shake of the trucker's hand, he opened the driver-side door, threw the shopping bags he had shoved over into the backseat, and the .44 fell out at his feet. Trying his best not to panic, Bart looked to the trucker with a nervous smile. "Always good to have protection on a road trip."

"Shoot, son, I've got three in my cab, not to mention the shotgun." The trucker smiled good-naturedly, but there was something… was he looking at the briefcase?

Snatching the gun quickly, he climbed in and tossed it in the center of the bench seat beside him. "Yeah, better safe than sorry." Turning the car around, he saw the trucker standing in the road through his rearview mirror. Surely he didn't see anything… did he? Oh, fuck, what if he did? Why the hell did he have to buy that damn gun in the first place? It was so stupid of him. Because the trucker definitely suspected something now. Maybe. Bart was pretty sure he suspected something.

Christ, he was losing his mind.

The man mumbled something again and Bart frowned harder. What was he going to do when he reached the hospital? Dump him on the curb? Take him in then slip away while they treated him? There was no way he could hang around waiting for the police to show up and ask questions. And what if that trucker got nervous and called the cops anyway? Hell, there could be an APB out for him this very minute. They could be surrounding the hospital waiting for him right now.

The guy didn't look hurt too badly. Maybe he could just leave him on the side of the road and someone else would stop and give him a ride. Maybe he was running from the law, too. Maybe he had killed this McKay guy and was trying to hide the body before someone found it. Shit, he was going to get busted for aiding and abiding a murderer, an accessory even. Holy shit, what had he done?

The man finally opened his eyes again, blinking in confusion at Bart before sitting up and placing a hand to his head. "What happened?"

"You, uh, you were hit by a car," Bart evaded. If this guy was a murderer, no use telling him he was the one that ran him down.

"A car?" He sat up a little straighter, looking around and realizing he was in a moving vehicle for the first time. He didn't seem too happy about that fact. "Where are you taking me?"

"To the hospital. Like I said, you were hit by a car."

"No, go back. You have to take me back to where it happened."

"Mister, we'll be in town in about five minutes. Once the doctor checks you out I'm sure someone will give you a ride back out…"

"No! I don't know how much time I have. I don't know… When did it happen? When did you find me?"

The man's agitation had Bart leaning toward the escaped murderer theory even more. "I don't know. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes ago."

"Oh, God," he groaned. "How far have we driven?"

"Ten, twelve miles."

He winced at the distance, scrubbing his face with his hands. "Look, you have to take me back," he pleaded. "I have to find someone." Taking in the compass that was attached to the dashboard, he looked out at the wilderness passing outside Bart's window. "He'll be looking for me, too. But if I'm twelve miles away… Just turn the car around."

"I don't know what you did… Sheppard? That's your name, right?" When the man nodded, he continued, "but I've got my own problems and I'm not getting involved in yours. Now I can stop the car right here and let you out if you want…"

But the panicked look on Sheppard's face at the suggestion let him know he didn't like that idea one bit, and the way the man snatched the gun from the seat beside him let Bart know that this man wasn't going to take no for an answer. "Oh, shit!" Bart slammed on the brakes and cowered against the door. "Please don't shoot me. Please!"

"What's your name?" the man asked calmly.

"B…Bart. Barton McClain." No one should be that calm holding a gun on another man. Not unless he'd killed before.

"Listen, Bart, I appreciate what you're trying to do. I really do, but you just aren't helping me here. And I need you to take me back to where you found me. So just turn the car around and take me back and no one is going to get hurt. Okay?"

Bart nodded silently. Willing himself not to look back at the briefcase of money, and failing, he flipped a U-turn in the middle of the nearly abandoned highway. This would be perfect. Just goddamn perfect. To lose the money that he would take the fall for stealing before he had time to do more than buy a couple of new shirts and the weapon that would be used to take it all away. Maybe he would be better off if the man shot and killed him.

Holding the gun steady, Sheppard looked out his window as they traveled back north, frowning when they passed a sign a few miles down the road stating: Big Sky Hunting Lodge Next Right. "There's hunting over here?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah. Private canned hunts. Guy has a couple hundred acres up here. Stocks it with all sorts of stuff for rich folks to come in and shoot."

"What kind of stuff?" He could hear the edge of dread in the man's voice.

Bart shrugged. "Deer, wild boar, buffalo, birds, some exotic stuff too, I hear. A herd of antelope from Africa. Cougars. He'll even ship…"

"Cougars?" Now the dread was full blown.

"Yeah, my boss bagged one a few years ago. Wasn't even hunting for them; was going for one of the gazelles. But the damn thing snuck up on them. Saw it out of the corner of his eye before it pounced on his brother. He was pissed. The management wanted to charge him for the cat when he claimed it was self defense."

"_Cougars_?" Sheppard asked again, as if he really didn't believe him. When Bart just nodded, he rolled the gun, urging him on. "Let's pick things up here, Bart."

Bart complied with the request. The sooner this guy was out of his car, the better. But when Sheppard started looking in the glove compartment then the back seat, he asked anxiously, "What are you doing?"

"Do you have any more ammo for this thing? I'm not sure I can take down a big cat with six shots." Opening the bags to peer inside, he shook his head. "Cougars. Christ."

"You're forcing me to drive you back at gunpoint just so you can hunt cougars?" Bart demanded incredulously.

"No, I'm forcing you to drive me back at gunpoint so that I can hunt down the person that the cougars are no doubt hunting down at this very moment. Now, do you have any more ammo or not?"

"In the brown paper bag," Bart pointed him away from the briefcase.

But his interest was drawn to the bag from the clothing store. "Is there a shirt in here?"

"Yeah," Bart almost whined. Funny, he didn't mind the man taking his gun, was almost thankful as long as he didn't actually shoot him with it, but those shirts were a special treat for himself and his new life of leisure in Canada.

Pulling one out, the dark blue one, Sheppard winced. "Are these… horses?"

"Mustangs," Bart corrected in a defensive sulk. Kick-ass white mustangs charging across a field of silky blue polyester and wide collars that would make women melt when he walked into the room

"It'll do," Sheppard sighed before slipping into it gingerly. There was already a purple bruise forming across his ribs, not to mention the raw skin on his arm and the previous burn.

Well, thought Bart, at least it wasn't the one with eagles on it.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Sheppard inquired conversationally as he dug out the box of ammo, "So, where you heading, Bart."

"Canada." It was out of his mouth before he even had a chance to filter it. But then he seriously doubted this guy was going to run to the cops as soon as he got out of the car.

A small smile crossed Sheppard's face and he turned back to looking out the window, "You from there?"

"No, just visiting. Business, actually," he amended quickly.

"Go there often?"

"Occasionally. It's a long drive, but the people are nice, so I don't mind."

Sheppard sputtered laughter. "Sorry, I wouldn't use that term to describe the Canadian I know. But he really shouldn't be used to judge the entire country of Canada by, I'm sure. Hell, he shouldn't even be used to judge the human species by."

"Not the friendly type, then?"

"Ironically, for being my best friend, he just doesn't do friendly."

"Well, not everyone can be a people person."

"Let's just say he doesn't make a good first impression… or second… and the third isn't so hot either. But eventually he grows on you."

There was something about this guy. Something that told Bart he'd kill him if he had to, but he really didn't want to. And under different circumstances he could see sitting at a bar with the guy and chatting over beers. Maybe that's why he asked the next question that he did.

"You and your friend, you guys are in some sort of trouble aren't you?"

"Yeaaaah, you could say that. But that seems to be par for the course." Sheppard's eyes flicked to the briefcase in the backseat. "But I'd say that's something new for you isn't it, Bart?"

"No! I mean, no, there's nothing… I don't know why you'd think… I'm just on a business…" Oh, shit, he knew. He knew!

"Honestly, Bart, I don't care. Even if I did care, I don't have time to care. I don't have time for anything these days. And by the looks of this shirt, I'm guessing all this took place when I was in elementary school, so it's really none of my business." Bart furrowed his brow in confusion and decided maybe Sheppard hit his head harder than he had originally thought. "But you seem like a decent enough guy and I'm sorry to have put a kink in your plans, whatever they are."

Bart considered arguing some more, then decided, what's the point? Instead, he just sighed. "It's been one shitty week."

"You're telling me," Sheppard snorted.

In the road ahead of him, Bart could make out the black marks from where he had skidded to a stop when Sheppard had first appeared. Coming to a more controlled halt this time, he pointed out the windshield. "This is where I picked you up."

The man wasted no time climbing out of the seat, hissing as he did so from the ache of standing, then ducked his head back in. "Thanks for the gun and the shirt." He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet as if he planned to compensate Bart for his loss. With a grimace he complained, "Crap. No one's going to take these bills for another thirty years, probably." Then an idea hit him. "What's today's date?"

"August twelfth."

"What _year_?" he asked patiently.

"1973." Man, he really had banged his head harder than he realized.

Sheppard thought for a second before telling him, "If you have any money left in that case in January, take the Dolphins over the Vikings in the Superbowl. That should more than cover the cost." And without a look back, Sheppard took off at a slow trot to the east.

Bart watched him climb up the embankment, over the barbed wire fence marking the edge of the hunting preserve and disappear into the tree line. "Christ, what a crack pot."

Maybe he had been right about Vietnam. Some of those guys were coming back pretty messed up. Putting the car back into gear, he took one more look back at the briefcase before driving on toward Canada, making a mental note to set aside at least half the money… just in case the Dolphins actually made it to the big game.

xxxx

Hunger. She had known it for a while now. The injury had slowed her down, interfered with her hunting, and even though there was a part of the two-leg's weapon still lodged in her leg, she was desperate enough to attempt to take down one of the herd's young. The adults were too large, their thick brown fur and broad, stubby necks too dense for a killing strike to the throat, the horns too much of a danger, the humps on their shoulders to thick for an attack from behind. But the young could be hurt, weakened to the point of eventual death with a few well-placed strikes to their flanks from her claws.

She had had young of her own once. Once. But then she had been trapped by the two-legs, brought from her home, away from her young, to this place. Here she had been released into a territory not her own and found herself in a strange predicament: she was now the hunted. Skills that had been used to take down her prey were now being used to avoid her predators. And so far, they had worked. But she had paid the price, and after licking her wounds for many days, hunger had finally driven her out of her hiding and down to the flatlands where the herds grazed.

The sun was high in the sky when she sat on the rocks above the valley and waited for the right animal to pick off. She stretched, lean muscle twitching in the warm sun high above. Now was not the time to attack; the light was to their advantage but she could wait and watch. She was sitting with the wind to her face so they could not smell her and they were grazing contentedly with no fear. The two-legs were not out today, so there was nothing to disturb them, until the strange creature appeared.

It was covered in fur and let out a strangled cry that caused the herd to shift and bolt even as it darted to the edge. She could smell it then, an odd combination of long dead flesh and fresh fear and she thought maybe it was wounded and the high-pitched call had been a sound of pain. But then she smelled something else beneath those, something she had learned to fear and hate all at once. She could smell the scent of the two-legs, and when the hide dropped away, she could see it, as well.

Rising to her haunches, she growled deep in her throat. It jumped at the sound, pulling a weapon from its side, and the fear scent spiked. Evidently the herd smelled it, too, because they dashed away as a single unit of brown fur and flesh that she would not partake of today. She was too weak to chase and she was too cautious to take the two-leg when it was armed, but if she was patient and could catch it off guard…

She would eat well tonight.

She trailed it until the sun was low on the horizon, until the hazy light was to her advantage. It had walked much, almost constantly, but covered very little ground, often circling back on its trail. And the longer it walked the more the fear scent grew. Trapped, panicked, weakening and calling. Constantly calling.

"Okay, Rodney, think. The gate was west of the outpost. That means the lodge was west of the outpost, which means Sheppard should be west of where you are now." It stopped and searched the skies for answers. "If you had any clue where the fuck you are now."

It tugged at the hides it drug behind it on the ground. "That's assuming Sheppard even jumped to the same place you did. Big assumption there. For all you know, he could be lying on a completely different planet dying from a goddamn staff weapon blast."

Mewling like a newborn cub, it never seemed to stop. It would be a relief to her stomach as well as her ears when she ate it.

"No, that's not what's happening. Those were buffalo back there… monstrously huge, stampede your ass into the grass buffalo. And that means you're on Earth, and if you stayed on Earth then Sheppard stayed on Earth, too. It only makes sense. Right? Right. Which means he's probably lying on Earth dying from a staff weapon blast."

"Unless he's found by a band of sympathetic Sioux that welcomed him into the tribe like the second coming of Kevin Costner." Tripping over a rock, it steadied and continued on, its steps even less sure than they had been before. "Hell, he's probably already cozied up with the chief's daughter. Dances with Bimbos. Dances with Anything." It let out a chittering sound like a feathered-one. "Flirts with Them All. Gel in His Hair." It stumbled again with another chitter. "I really need to eat something."

"Fuck!" It raised the weapon it carried and fired at a long-ears that bounded from its cover when it passed. The long-ears disappeared into the brush and even she instinctively sprinted off for cover at the outburst. Although she could smell it was terror and not malice that was behind the attack. But even a terrified creature could kill. She herself had attempted it more than once.

Daring to once again approach the two-leg, she watched as it sat on a log, hanging its head. "Fuck." It was a call of finality; she had heard it before as the last cry for help from a dying prey.

The wind shifted and she could just make out another call carried from far away, across the rise in the distance. "Rod–ney." But the one she was tracking did not hear it and it would be some time before the one making the call made it to where they were now.

"Why am I even trying? Even if I do find him, I've probably come down with some incurable intestinal bacteria from the water I drank from that stream. We'll get back just in time for Carson to run screaming from the microbes bursting from my abdomen a la Aliens. I just hope that the next place we jump to has indoor plumbing because there are limits to what I will do behind a shrub."

Now, she thought. Now is the time. Its back was turned, the wind was in her favor, the weapon hung limply.

It scrubbed a paw across its face. "I am so damn sorry, Sheppard. You should have been out of danger from the machinations of the incredible Rodney McKay."

It let out a sharp sound, something like the chitter but more pain filled, causing her ears to twitch delicately.

"You're eight hundred and ninety-three miles from my lab on most days now. Eight hundred and ninety-three goddamn miles."

She crouched, her tail flicking in anticipation as she prepared to pounce.

"You would think that would be far enough to keep you safe. It sure the hell felt far enough. At least Teyla and Ronon are…"

It froze, listening intently and she feared that maybe it had heard her. But then the second cry could be heard far in the distance.

"McKay!"

"Sheppard?" It stood, looking around, and she knew now was the time. Now or never.

She leapt just as it turned and saw her, so that it was able to get its arm up and block her strike at its throat. Her weight knocked it to the ground and it let out a scream and now she could taste its fear as much as she could smell it, blood flowing from the arm her teeth sank into easily. It was the arm with the weapon, and even though the two-leg still held tight, there was no way to turn it on her.

She released her hold on the arm, her hunger spiking with the anticipation of a meal and the flavor of fresh blood on her tongue. She pressed a claw into its chest, tilting her head with a ravenous growl to strike at the throat…

…and then the world shifted, like loose rock slipping under her paws, and she scrambled for purchase that was nowhere to be found.

When she did find it, the two-leg was still under her, but the sun was gone, as were the trees and rocks and grass that had been there before. Instead there was the cave-like dwelling of the two-legs enclosing everything and more two-legs screaming and running out of her reach. She swatted at one in defense, and it threw something at her. The object missed and shattered on the wall behind her. Backing off the one she had attacked, she growled, giving a screeching roar to warn them away even as she looked for a way out.

Another object was thrown, this one tagging her shoulder and she roared again, moving under the cover of a structure in the room. The two-leg she had attacked sat and aimed the weapon at her, missing, but close enough to have her darting toward an opening in one of the walls and into another room. This room had meat, she could smell it, see it over the burning flames that the two-legs were so fond of, but there was no time, the smell of fear was almost overwhelming her.

The two-legs in the other room were calling to one another, "Witch! He is a witch!"

"No, wait, don't!" The two-leg she had hunted went silent with the sound of a crash.

Finding another opening, she darted for it, and finally she was out in the open air. The two-leg dwellings were on either side of her, the ground beneath her feet was uneven stone, but it did not stop her from running as fast as her sore leg would carry her. She came across more two-legs, each crying out when they saw her, and there was a long-tail that reared with a whinny, unseating the two-leg on top. But still she ran until the dwelling and the two-legs and their fires were behind her.

She was crossing a field of tall grass with a herd of its own when she came across another two-leg. It paused when it saw her and she growled low and dangerous, crouching near to the ground and skirting wide. She had no desire to fight it, but if she had to, she would. But it seemed as wary of her as she did of it.

"Oh, fuck. If you jumped too…" It looked to the weapon in its hand then back at her, not in a threatening way but as if trying to work something out. "Oh, God, McKay." It ran off toward the two-leg dwellings, the panic scent strong in its wake, and she ran in the opposite direction.

She did not stop until the trees came into view and she heard the familiar sounds of the forest, her injured leg throbbing with pain. It was then she decided she would know hunger for a while longer still.

xxxx

William Stoughton had run the Plow and Harness ever since his Da had passed nearly seventeen years ago, God rest his drunken, beer-soaked soul. It wasn't a fancy establishment by any means, but it was clean and well run and always had a fire to warm a weary traveler and a cheerful welcome for the local farmers and tradesmen that inhabited their little town. And in that seventeen years, William had become a little plumper (who trusts the food at a common house where the proprietor is thin as a rail?) and a little richer (the plumping plan had paid off), but he could always be counted on to be a hospitable host and an unbiased party in any local disputes.

In that time he had heard tales that would turn a young man's hair white from the various travelers that stopped for the night or a quick pint and meal before returning to their journeys. Stories of ghostly women in white calling to a lonely traveler across the moors. Tales of dogs the size of horses and horses with eyes of red and the Devil himself running loose in London leaving cloven hoof prints in the snow. Always from a reliable source– the cousin of a friend of a brother-in-law, the washerwoman's niece's betrothed. Always enough to be believable, and given the times, who wouldn't believe? But the tale being told by Thomas Hathorne, a man he had known for his entire life, was the first first-hand account William had ever heard, and it was enough to cause the hairs to rise on his arms in a way that no other story had.

"He was locked in mortal combat with the beast," Thomas told the crowd of men gathered around him. "I mean, can you picture it, now? There we were, me and Sarah and the little ones sitting at our seats around the supper table, heads bowed in thanks, young Richard speaking grace, and man and beast suddenly appear in the middle of the room, on the rug my own mother wove for us as a wedding gift."

He drank deeply from his ale as a murmur of horror passed through the crowd. The crowd that was all drinking, William noted happily. Never mind the fact that Lucifer was in their midst, they were good for business, these events. And the two hours that had passed since the commotion in Thomas' house had taken place had been more than enough time for word to spread through the small community. So that when Thomas had entered the common house a few minutes earlier, you would have thought that King Charles himself was expected instead of the town silversmith. The crowd had parted like the waters of the Red Sea for Moses and Thomas had seated himself at the bar and began his tale.

With a quick glance around the room, William nudged Lucy toward the one man without a cup. A stranger, wrapped up in a dark cloak and cap pulled low over his head. Another traveler, no doubt, caught up in the tale like all the others in the room. How else to explain the way he barely even glanced at the bosom pressed against his shoulder as Lucy asked for his order?

"The beast growled, blood dripping from its fangs and it lashed out at me." The stranger paled as Thomas formed his hand into a claw and William feared the story may be too brutal for the man's taste. And a weak stomach was one that didn't eat or drink in a common house. Probably a city lad, one not used to the ruggedness that these simple farmers faced day in and day out.

"So the man was hurt?" An odd accent, maybe from up north, William thought.

At the stranger's question, Thomas looked down the bar and bared his teeth. "Oh, aye, he was. The beast had nearly ripped his arm from its socket."

The man sat heavily on the bench beside him and William decided it was best to rein Thomas in. He himself had seen the man being dragged to the courthouse and knew the arm was intact. It was all fine and good to spin an interesting tale, but when it threatened to slow his business, William Stoughton knew when to draw an end to the exaggerations.

"Perhaps you overstated yourself, Thomas. How did he fire his magical weapon if that were the case?"

Thomas frowned at being caught in his lie. "Well, it may not have been that bad in the end, but first impressions can be deceiving. He had blood aplenty running down his forearm… and it ate a hole in my floor as soon as it touched it."

William didn't point out that he had already said it had happened on his mother's rug and a quick glance at the stranger taking a long draught from his tankard showed the talk of blood wasn't more than he could handle, so the proprietor let the fib go.

"So, tell us about the weapon, Thomas," someone coaxed from the back of the room.

"It were a serpent," he told them in a low voice. "Dark metal, but when he pointed it at the beast, it rose up in his hand as if ready to strike and then it shot fire from its mouth with a dreadful hiss."

Another murmur went up and the stranger sighed heavily. Well, to be honest, it was rather unbelievable but Thomas swore it was the truth.

"It was then the beast ran through the kitchen and out the back door, thanks be to the Lord." The man crossed himself and the rest of the men in the bar did the same… except for the stranger… then Thomas continued his story. "And Mary, my oldest, it were, that pointed out what sat before us in my own house. A witch!"

More crossing and more mumbles about the troubled times we lived in spread amongst the men and William found himself nodding along with the rest of them.

"So I picked up my chair," he stood then to demonstrate the action, "and hit him across the back, him begging me to stop the whole time, but he crumpled to the floor with the first swing and wasn't moving by the second. And I stood watch while I sent Robert to fetch the constable and his men."

The stranger's eyes narrowed menacingly as his hold on the tankard tightened. "Did you kill him?" Evidently he had been caught up in the fever to see the witch dead like everyone else in town.

Thomas snorted as he sat again. "It takes more than a chair to kill a witch, especially that one. He came straight from the depths of Hell with the power of the Dark One himself in his hands. Even the demon beast itself was terrified of the serpent he handled. We're all lucky to be alive. If he had been whole without the wound, I doubt any of us would be. As it was, the blood loss must have weakened him."

"What did they do with him?" the stranger inquired.

Thomas took his seat again, pushing his empty mug forward and William refilled it. It was common knowledge that if you could keep the crowd drinking, you drank for free, and Thomas Hathorne planned to drink his fill. "They took him to the courthouse for safe keeping."

"How many men are guarding him?" It seemed an odd question at first but the man quickly added, "I would hope there would be enough to keep someone as powerful as he apparently is from escaping."

"Four and the Constable. That's plenty for holding him and the interrogation."

"Interrogation? It sounds like a pretty open and shut case," the stranger observed, "it's not like they need a confession out of him."

"Aye, it is, but we have no idea why he came, who he is in league with. He will give names of those serving the Dark One before sunrise."

"And if he doesn't?"

The stranger's question had the room bursting into laughter. When he looked to William in confusion, the barkeep explained, "This is not the first witch we've dealt with here. He will give names; the Constable will see to that."

"What if he doesn't know any names to give?" Now it was William's turn to be confused. "The way you talk, I assume no one has seen him before. What if he doesn't know anyone's name here to give?"

"He was obviously sent here to deliver a message to one of the other servants of hell," Thomas justified angrily. "Of course he knows their names. And if he refuses to talk… well, the gallows will swing empty in the morning, robbed of their quarry."

"So he's to be hanged?"

"Do not suffer a witch to live. That's what the Good Book tells us and it is the responsibility of all God fearing people to follow the Word."

The crowd tapped their mugs and agreed with Thomas' explanation, shooting suspicious glances at the stranger and William was beginning to wonder if two men would end up locked in a cell tonight.

"Oh, I'm not disagreeing with you, there," the stranger appeased. "I was just wondering why you were going to hang him instead of, say, burning him at the stake." When the crowd really had no answer for the man, he continued. "I would think one like him, one that came straight from Hell itself, would need something more than a simple noose to kill him."

"He's right, you know," James Porter piped in from the back. "What good will rope and hanging do against one as powerful as him?"

"It's the law, James," William pointed out with a disapproving frown for the room in general, and the stranger specifically. "Witches haven't burned for over a hundred years."

The stranger shrugged lightly, his voice just as easy. "Maybe it's time one did again."

"What right have you to question the King's law?" William narrowed his eyes to study the man closer and he lifted his mug before he spoke.

"I'm just saying that if a witch brought a Hell beast into my own home with my wife and children there, I'd want to make sure he was good and dead and couldn't come seeking revenge on those that sent him to his fate in the first place."

The look he gave Thomas had the silversmith chewing his lip in thought. William, seeing where this was heading, turned to his friend. "Thomas, the law says hanging."

But the gently warning tone only seemed to put the other man on the defensive. "If it had been your family at the claws of the beast, Will, I doubt you would care what the law says." Thomas stood then and addressed the room as a whole. "I say he be burned at the stake. Else we are all in peril for our very lives."

Half the room was enthusiastically behind Thomas, others gave mediocre support, others still frowned and shook their head at the suggestion. "Is it worth finding yourself locked behind the same bars that held the witch?" William challenged.

"I say it is," Thomas declared, then spoke to one of the men who was holding back. "Gabriel, would you risk Emily's life, her very soul, the soul of your unborn child, on the hope that the gallows will send him back to Hell?" Gabe looked around the room nervously, his opinion swaying like the noose they were discussing. "Would any of you? I would wager a few coins on the dice maybe or a game of cards, but I will not wager the lives of my family on such. And I will not wager them on this either."

The call of approval was stronger this time, and William realized he was facing defeat. So he turned his attention to the stranger sitting by silently. "Spoken your fill?"

"I think Thomas has said everything that needs to be said."

The room was abuzz with plans, where the pyre would be built, who would gather the wood, who would gather the witch. With a bitter shake of his head, William took the tankard from the man. "I suppose you are pleased with yourself. I don't know what you think to gain from this, but you have it now."

Seeing that he was no longer welcome in the house, the stranger placed a couple of silver coins on the bar. "I've only been trying to get one thing for a couple of days now; a break. And, yeah, I think I finally got it."

He disappeared through the crowd and William studied the coins. Foreign, that was for sure, but silver was silver and he'd take it. And good riddance to the man. A rabble rouser in the end, and to think he had worried about his delicate disposition when he first came in when he was obviously a right sick bastard.

Within twenty minutes the common house was empty. Within two hours a pyre had been built and soaked with fuel in the center of town. And William watched from his front window as the crowd moved to claim their witch.

xxxx

Joseph Finn wasn't the smartest man alive. But he had a right hook that could lay most men flat and a propensity to use it, so that when old John Hobbes fell off his roof and went a little daft in the head and a position opened up for one of the Constable's men, Joseph had found himself gainfully employed as a peacekeeper in the small town. Not that that stopped him from partaking in the occasional off-duty altercation, but he was good at his job and those that didn't like it could settle the issue with him one and one. And there were rarely any takers for that offer.

It had been dumb luck, and from all accounts a leaky roof and some homemade whiskey, that poor Hobbes had ended up thinking he was a sheep dog some days and would run with the flocks now and again. But if not for it, Joseph wouldn't have been sitting guarding the witch that had tried to kill Thomas Hathorne's entire family. A distinction that was sure to earn him a free pint or two at the Plow and Harness when he went off duty.

Although, for a family-killing witch, Joseph had to admit the man was rather dull.

All he did was sit shivering in the corner, knees pulled up to his chest, bound hands wrapped around them, and metal shackles on his ankles. No cursing and threatening, no begging or pleading, nothing. Not like earlier.

When they had first dragged him into the room the Constable would use for interrogation, he had begged plenty. And Joseph and the others had been told to soften him up for the real questioning. So, after tying a rag around his arm so he didn't bleed to death before the King's justice could be served and he could hang for his sins, they had done the usual– doused him in a vat of icy water, shook him a few times, delivered a couple of punches, back in the water, shook him some more, and hinted at what was to come. By the time the Constable arrived with his shiny silver tools and told him he expected names, they couldn't get him to shut his yap.

"John Sheppard, Radek Zelenka, Elizabeth Weir, Carson Beckett, uh.. that Marine that called me a overbearing smartass…what was his name?" Fingers snapped in thought. "Young. Martin Young. Definitely write his name down. Oh, and Kavanagh, how could I forget him…"

By the time he finished, there were over fifty names on the list. The Constable, his hand cramping from all the writing, looked over the names with a frown. "Not a single person on this list resides here."

"Look, I'm a minion of Satan, a very busy one at that. Do you honestly expect me to remember the address of every servant of the Big Guy I run across?"

That comment had earned him another dousing in the water, held under until he was thrashing wildly, before he was brought back out again sputtering and shuddering.

"Do you have any other names?" the Constable asked succinctly.

"Y…yeah." His teeth chattered uncontrollably. "Samantha Carter, Cameron Mitchell, Daniel Jackson, Bill Lee…"

Still no one from town and the Constable was in a quandary. Maybe these people were actually in league with the Devil and lived nearby. But that did no good to them. After another dunking, he held up a shaking hand. "Wait. Show me the locals. Line them up and parade them in front of me, and I'll point out the ones that are guilty. Just no more water."

The Constable considered for a moment before ordering briskly. "Chain him in his cell."

Joseph could only imagine that the Constable was considering how to organize the exhibition of the townspeople for the witch. Maybe it would be like the livestock judging at the county fair. Maybe there would be merchants and games and they would have performers juggling balls and balancing knives after the guilty were hanged. It would definitely make for a more festive outing than just hanging folks and going home.

So they had locked him up and he had immediately moved against the far wall, mumbling to himself. "Jump… jump… jump. Any fucking time now would be fine." At one point he had whispered quietly, "Sheppard, where the hell are you?" And Joseph had wondered why he would call to Our Lord the Shepherd in that tone. Maybe he was trying to repent. Maybe he should fetch the priest, or the Constable at the very least, but then the townsfolk had started building their pyre and the other guards had left to try to break up the growing mob, leaving him all alone with the man.

But honestly, he wished he had been out there where he could hear angry voices growing louder. At least out there he might get the chance to take a punch at someone. In here all he got to do was throw buckets of water on the man so he couldn't fall asleep. But after a while, even that become boring. He stopped reacting and had fallen completely silent. Joseph began to wonder if maybe the man was conjuring some evil spell that was working the town into a frenzy.

Glancing out the door at the growing crowd, he called back to the man in the cell, "Hey, witch, what are you doing?" When he received no answer, he scooped another bucket of water and tossed it through the bars. The man only cowered away further, but the angry demand of 'why don't you answer' never left his lips as cold metal pressed into the base of his skull and a blade was pressed to his throat.

"I wouldn't do that again if I were you." The voice was as hard as the weapon that clicked menacingly. "Now, open the door."

"Are you mad? He's a servant of darkness." But Joseph took the keys from his belt and did as he was told.

"He can be an annoying son of a bitch, no doubt about it, but I think servant of darkness is a bit grandiose even for McKay. Open the other cell." Trying to glance behind him to see the assailant, he walked cautiously to the adjoining cell when the blade slid minutely against his skin in warning and unlocked that door, too. "Now, get in."

He was shoved roughly forward and the door slammed shut behind him. Turning, Joseph could now see the man, tall and cloaked in black with a strange gun in one hand and a black-hilted knife in the other. Wasting no more time on the guard, he moved quickly into the cell with the witch and squatted before the man, touching his shoulder gently.

"Rodney? You okay?"

Lifting his head, the man, Rodney, blinked in the dim light. "Sheppard? Is that really you?"

"Yeah, it is," the tall man smiled reassuringly, before cutting the ropes from the prisoner's wrists. Taking the cloak from off his own shoulders and wrapping it around the dripping-wet man, he asked, "Think you can stand up?"

Nodding in response, Rodney stood with Sheppard's help, the shackles rattling with the motion. With a curse, Sheppard knelt and rummaged through the keys he had taken from Joseph until he found the right one. Noticing the cloak around him for the first time, Rodney asked, "Where did you get this?"

"I took if from a carriage when no one was looking." Finishing up with the restraints, he stood again, glaring angrily over at Joseph as he did so.

"It's warm. Not as warm as the furs, but I lost those." As if a thought hit him suddenly he added. "I jumped into a herd of buffalo."

"I jumped into traffic." Sheppard wrapped the cloak a little tighter when Rodney shivered violently.

"I was attacked by a mountain lion." He raised his arm to show the bandages wet and dripping pale red onto the floor.

Grimacing at the sight, Sheppard told him simply, "I know. Can you walk?"

"Sure." But his knees nearly buckled with the first step and Sheppard wrapped his free arm around him to help him along. "Your shoulder! You were supposed to be laying half-dead somewhere where I couldn't find you."

"Adina healed it. Ends up she's part ascended. Go figure."

Rodney accepted the news with a small "Huh. Did she happen to say how to get back to our own time?"

Joseph backed away into the shadows. These men were both part of the Dark Army, there was no doubt. And this Adina must be, as well. The town was in danger and he needed to warn them, but he didn't dare say a word for fear that they would destroy him where he stood.

"Nah. You know how they are. She told me a story about a river and keeping my feet warm and how you have to want to succeed before you can. I swear to God, it's like talking to a goddamn fortune cookie."

Gaining his balance a little more as they reached the door to the cell, Rodney squinted at the clothes Sheppard wore. "Are those horses?"

"Mustangs," he corrected.

"Did you find that in a carriage too?"

"Actually, I stole it at gunpoint off a guy with a briefcase of money in his backseat."

Giving the shirt another look, he told Sheppard, "I can see why you would do that; it's pretty styling."

"Don't get any ideas. I stole if fair and square for myself."

"Please, it has bimbo magnet all over it. I don't have anywhere near the Kirkian levels of testosterone that would be required to wear something like that." He stumbled again and Sheppard steadied him once more. "They thought I was a witch. It's incredible; you get a new shirt and I get dunked in ice water."

"If it's any consolation, I was hit by a car."

"Is this a goddamn competition? Are you _trying_ to one up me?"

Sheppard's lips twitched with humor. "No, McKay, I'd never do that."

"You know, I'm glad I offered you up, you petty, attention-seeking bastard. You and Radek and the entire science staff and half the SGC. Hell, I even offered up Hermiod. I had to make up a last name for him though. Hermiod Smith. I think they bought it. Stopped trying to drown me at least and just locked me in that fucking cell."

The good humor vanished and Sheppard turned to glare at Joseph. "Yeah, well you won't be going back in there again."

There was a banging on the front door and Joseph knew it was the townsfolk come to fetch their witch. Sheppard guided McKay toward the back of the building. "What's going on out there?" the escaped witch asked as they passed out of Joseph's view.

"That would be the angry mob come to burn you at the stake."

As if vindicated, Rodney let out a triumphant, "Ha! Try and top that one, shiny-shirt boy."

"You have me there; being burnt alive trumps anything I have to offer."

"Plus I would finally be dry and warm, so I'm not seeing that much of a down side."

"Aside from being dead."

"Yeah, okay, valid point. Which I'm glad you're not, by the way. Dead, that is."

"Same goes for you, McKay." Joseph heard a screech of wood, as if someone had tripped over a piece of furniture. "Easy, Rodney."

"Where did that table come from?" he accused.

"Did they feed you?"

Rodney snorted. "Yes, right after the bubble bath and massage." Joseph heard the back door open and before the two hell spawn passed out into the darkness, Rodney asked, "I don't suppose you stole a Snicker's bar from the guy with the shirt?" And they were gone.

It was just a few minutes later that the front door burst open and Thomas Hathorne and several other men stormed into the room. "Where is he? Where have you hidden the witch, Joseph?"

Joseph pointed toward the back door. "Gone. Another one busted him out with a black knife and a gun forged by Lucifer himself."

"Another one? Who was it?" James Porter demanded.

"A stranger. Tall, dark hair, a black cloak. I had never laid eyes on him before."

Thomas seemed taken aback by the news, as if he himself knew the man. James looked almost as flustered. Finally Thomas explained, "We were bewitched by the man in the Plow and Harness. And now he's sprung his partner."

"They just left, not five minutes before."

Thomas raised his lantern high. "Come on, men, we'll have us two witches on a single stake tonight!"

The crowd yelled their approval of the plan and they ran off into the night to find the men.

Joseph watched them go, then realized he was still locked in the cell. In a funk, he sat on the bunk against the wall. Wasn't this just his luck? A riot, a manhunt, and witch burning, and he was locked alone in the jail. Somehow he always missed all the fun.

xxxx

Probably the best part of being a dog, he decided, was being able to sleep in the barn. Sure, the table scraps from the woman of the house were delicious, and chasing the sheep until they were climbing over one another to get away from him never lost its appeal, and the scratch behind his ear when he was doing as he was told wasn't to be ignored. But curling up in the barn, warm in the hay back near the milk cow's stall, out of the cool night air, dry from the damp fog while that wooly herd of numbskulls that he had run all day could only bleat and huddle together for warmth, that was the best.

So, when the two men had entered the barn, his ears had perked and he had lifted his head to peer at them curiously. But there had been so much noise and chaos all evening and he was so exhausted from his day's escapades in the fields that he didn't even bother to do more than give a warning yip.

The one man that seemed to be leading the other froze at the sound, trying to make out where it had come from. "Hey, little fella," he called in a hushed tone. "Where are you?" He had given them another muffled woof, a small whine of annoyance, and settled back into his warm hay. "I can't see him but I don't think he's going to give us any trouble."

"Oh good," the other man answered in the same quiet voice, "one dog out of an entire town, that's not exactly reassuring, Sheppard."

"I'm in a take-what-we-can-get mode, Rodney. A dog that will let us share a barn with him so we can hide from the torch and pitch fork crowd is a goddamn luxury at this point." He led the other man to the far side of the barn and sat him on an overturned barrel, slanted beams of moonlight cutting through the slats of the walls the only illumination in the structure.

"So I guess a warm bed, foot-long sub, and quadruple mocha would be asking too much, huh?"

Seeing that the seated man was settled, the other moved to look out the crack of the door. "Seattle doesn't even exist at this point, McKay, much less Starbucks." The seated man hissed painfully and the one at the door turned back to him. "What's wrong?"

"My arm. I probably have blood poisoning, that's pretty common with animal bites, you know. Or rabies! Oh, God, Sheppard, what if I have rabies?"

"I saw the lion, McKay, it didn't look rabid. So, I seriously doubt I'm going to have to put you down like Ole' Yeller." The man gently unwrapped the arm, moving to let the scant light fall across it. "I think the color's okay. But those punctures are deep. I'll see if I can find something to clean it better, and some food."

"You're leaving?" The panic in the man's voice was clear even though it never rose above a whisper.

"We have time, McKay. Way I figure it, given how each jump has been increasing in length, we still have several hours before we jump again."

"You're leaving?" he asked again, ignoring what the other had just explained to him.

The first man seemed torn, looking between the door and the wounded arm. Finally he sighed, "Yeah, okay, you're right. No more splitting up. Maybe there's something in here we can use to clean your arm."

He started rummaging through the tools and boxes in the barn, the cow lowing at the disturbance. The second man leaned his head back against the wall. "You know, I've been thinking… when I had a few minutes between torture sessions that is… that there should be something we can do to return to the lab at 51. I mean, we're in the energy field, but that was always the plan that the ship would be in the field when it was transporting. So there should be a way to manipulate it from in here."

"Yeah, so? What did you come up with?" He was in the process of pulling items out of a box and the dog, realizing what was in there, watched closely.

"That's about as far as I got. There really wasn't that much time between sessions."

Finding a bottle, the man pulled the cork, sniffed and smiled triumphantly. "I think I found something."

Seeing the bottle of contraband whiskey being taken by the strangers, the dog growled menacingly. "Sorry, boy, but I think we need this more than your master."

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Sheppard asked as he sniffed once again at the bottle.

"Assume the dog is male."

Sheppard shrugged. "I don't know. It's kind of like how all cars are girls; all dogs are male and all cats are female."

Taking a sip of the alcohol, he handed it over to McKay. "This should take the nip off."

Rodney took the bottle warily and took a sip himself, coughing when he did. "Forget the nip; that could take paint off."

"And it should disinfect pretty much anything, including that arm."

Rodney drank a little more before handing the bottle back. "What about turtles?"

"Yeah, it would probably even disinfect a turtle." He took a knife and cut a wide strip from the cloak Rodney was wearing.

"I meant the sex of turtles, Colonel."

"The mating rituals of reptiles aren't exactly something I'm that interested in, McKay."

The grin he gave was met with a shake of Rodney's head. "You're impossible sometimes, you know that?"

"You've pointed it out once or twice before." The grin vanished and he asked with a certain amount of dread as he held the bottle over McKay's arm, "Ready?"

"No." But he poured it anyway and Rodney flailed and did his best to hold back a screamed curse.

Without wasting any time, Sheppard took the fabric he had cut and wrapped it around the wounded arm. "Sorry." Rodney's only response was to sway precariously where he sat. Sheppard steadied him then sat beside him to give him something to lean against. "Why are you so interested in turtles anyway?"

McKay swallowed thickly, leaning his head back against the wall with closed eyes. "Not me, Carson." The words slurred slightly and the uninjured wrist twirled sloppily. "He… uh… he emailed me… last week." He slumped down a little further and Sheppard bumped his shoulder to wake him up.

"He emailed you about turtle sex?"

"He's…he's getting some…as pets. He's getting pets." Rodney's head rolled against the wall and he laughed humorously. "He's getting pets." The free hand scrubbed at his face. "We're not going back are we?"

"Sure we are. You'll figure out how to get us out of this field and we'll be back in 51 before…"

Rodney cut him off with a shake of his head. "Not this. Atlantis. We're not going back to Atlantis."

"Oh." Sheppard sighed heavily. "Christ, Rodney, I don't know. I try not to think about it too much, you know?"

"But you're not getting any pets are you?"

"No, no pets. I have enough trouble taking care of the guys on my new team."

"Your new team." Now it was Rodney's turn to sigh. "I think I'd rather you were picking out a puppy."

"Hey, it's just temporary. Just like you being assigned to Area 51, just like Carson's turtles. It's not like he can get emotionally attached to a turtle." He patted the leg of the man beside him. "When we go back to Atlantis he'll be able to walk away with no regrets. Just like I will with my away team and just like you will with your lab."

"It is a nice lab," Rodney conceded, "and it is an important project."

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Fine, you'll have regrets, but you'll still walk away when the time comes to go home, right?"

"Most of my bags are still packed," McKay admitted.

"Yeah, but that would still be the case even if you were thrilled to be back on Earth."

"True, but that's not the case." The slight smile was mirrored by his friend.

"Get some rest, Rodney. I'll keep watch. Hopefully we'll jump a little after dawn."

McKay nodded, wrapped the cloak around himself with a small shiver and closed his eyes. Sheppard moved back to the door, watching and waiting for the crowd that was still out and about to move closer. And the dog settled back down into sleep.

He woke with the crowing of the rooster from the Benson farm. Stupid bird. First paling of the sky with the coming sunrise and he was squawking. He decided that today would be the day he ate poultry for his supper. Evidently he wasn't the only one that heard it. The sound had Rodney crying out in his sleep. Sheppard moved back to where the other man rested.

"McKay?" When Rodney opened his eyes and didn't seem to see him, Sheppard rested the back of his hand against the other man's forehead. "Shit, you're burning up."

"We need to go," McKay told him as he fought to stand up.

"We're safe here, Rodney. At least for the time being. And we should jump in a few hours."

"No, Adina says we have to go." He made it to his feet and grabbed at Sheppard to stay there. "We have to leave now."

"Rodney, you're running a fever, you were dreaming…"

"They're outside," McKay whispered. With a wary look to the side wall, Sheppard could see the flicker of shadows that meant bodies were moving around the barn. The dog growled menacingly and Sheppard nodded in understanding.

"I don't suppose Adina told you how we should leave?"

"Jump… we need to jump." Rodney's eyes threatened to roll back in his head and Sheppard gave him a shake.

"How, McKay?" he demanded tensely.

"Think…" the word trailed off and Sheppard shook him again. The sound of the men outside the barn was now apparent on all sides and the dog let out a warning bark.

"McKay!"

"Think about where you are in the solar system."

"What?"

"Just do it, Sheppard." He did his best to stand a little straighter and failed miserably. "Think about where you are in the solar system."

"Right, okay, I can do that."

Sheppard closed his eyes in thought and the dog watched as the two men blurred, flickered, and were gone. With a startled yelp, he cowered briefly before sniffing the air for any sign of them. There was none. Moving forward cautiously, he sniffed again.

It was then the men rushed into the barn. "Ah-ha! Foul demons, we have…captured… you?" The men held their lanterns high to look around the room. There were no strangers, just the cow, the farm tools, and the dog. Thomas Hathorne's shoulders slumped in irritation when he saw him. "Hobbes, what are you doing in here?"

"Sleeping," the dog told them. "Which is right near impossible with the likes of you and that bloody rooster crowing." He grumpily returned to his dark corner near the milk cow and settled down again.

"Did you see two men in here?" He gave an annoyed growl accentuated with a bark and closed his eyes, completely ignoring Thomas' question, as well as the next. "Hobbes, did you see them or not?"

Receiving no response, the men searched the barn then went on their way. Hobbes decided that if the man wasn't careful, Hathorne was going to receive a bite to his leg the next time he ran across him… after he caught that damnable rooster.

xxxx

_TBC_


	3. Variable 3: Speed

_a/n Once again, thanks to Koschka and Kodiak for the beta and to everyone that's taken the time to review. It means lots!_

**Variable 3: Speed**

_Life comes at you fast. But when you're a speed junky, sometimes it's not fast enough. I've never met a pilot yet that could drive under the speed limit, and I'm no exception. There's something about experiencing the world when it's passing by so fast that your brain can't register anything beyond a blur, a jumble of images that smear together into this amorphous form surrounding you and the dashboard, or even better, you and the cockpit. But then again, when you're a pilot, nothing else matters besides you and the cockpit. Sure, there's the mission, the rest of your team, the enemy you're being sent to destroy and the civilians you're being sent to protect. But in reality, they just become part of the amorphous form outside your window, too. _

_And if you forget that? If you decide someone is more important than orders, that they deserve to stand out in the blur? Well, you can find yourself going from hot sand to cold snow in the blink of an eye. Life is like that. It can speed past you so fast that you're lost in the blur, it can pick you up and carry you along, it can change you so fast you don't realize it has until you're sitting around a table at the SGC being given a new assignment with a knot in your stomach because the few people you did manage to hold on to are being scattered to the wind, as well._

_But it didn't take a pilot to feel that same G-force gut punch of reassignment. Rodney had, too. But then again, Rodney was a pilot, at least in his mind. And there was nothing faster in two galaxies than Rodney's mind. Never mind that he'd nearly pissed his pants in the F302. Never mind he flew the Jumpers like he was skiing the slalom. Never mind that he didn't even need a craft to reach velocities mere mortals never would. He was motion and emotion, acceleration and agitation, altitude and attitude. He was as much pitch and yaw as he was bitch and moan. He was my polar opposite, a kindred spirit, and a damn good friend and I sat and watched with no power to stop it as he was being sent to Area 51._

_And he wasn't the least bit happy about it._

"_Why the hell is Bill Lee going to be running the Jumper program instead of me?"_

_General Landry had taken the outburst in stride. "Believe it or not, Dr. McKay, you aren't the only one that can study a Jumper."_

"_I can at least turn the damn thing on, which is more than Lee can do."_

"_We'll have Colonel Sheppard here if Dr. Lee needs assistance."_

"_Oh, so now Sheppard is going to be the SGC chore monkey?" McKay had sat back in a huff, looking to me for my opinion on the topic. Never mind that he had used me as his own personal ATA chore monkey more times than I could remember, this wasn't part of the McKay master plan. But then, nothing over the past several days had been._

"_Rodney," Elizabeth had chastised quietly, which just set him off again._

"_What, Elizabeth? You don't actually think it's okay what they're doing, do you? The way they're just pushing us out? You're just going to settle back into negotiating treaties in the Baltics? Carson is just going to become a member of the medical staff here at the SGC? Sheppard is just supposed to turn into a glorified light switch for anything ATA related? And I'm just supposed to scamper off to 51 because they think someone else should get to play with the toys for a while?"_

"_Colonel Sheppard is hardly going to be sitting around waiting for someone to need his help in the labs," Landry told him pointedly. "He's going to be assigned his own away team so he can work to protect his home galaxy for a change. And you, we feel, have more to offer in R&D in Area 51. But you are a civilian, so if you don't like that idea, you're free to pursue your own interests… outside the SGC."_

_McKay had blinked then, looked back at me and I had done my best to mentally will him to shut the hell up and just bide his time until Atlantis opened back up to us. If he removed himself from the program, they'd just send somebody else back to Atlantis when the time came and the look he gave me told me he knew it as well._

_Clearing his throat, he had raised his chin and mumbled, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to review the projects that are ongoing at Area 51."_

_So he'd gone, and Elizabeth decided she'd take some time to decide exactly what she wanted to do, and Carson had settled into the medical team, and I'd exchanged Ori for Wraith, Air Force officers for alien allies, subordinates for friends. I also never laid a hand on the Jumper; I wasn't even on the access list to get into the same room with it. And I started thinking Rodney was right, they really were pushing us out._

_I hadn't flown since we left Atlantis. I could only look up at the stars through the layers of atmosphere and wish I was breaking through into the openness of space. I could feel gravity pushing me down, feel the drag slowing my life to a crawl, feel the need for more. As Tom Cruise so eloquently put it, feel the need for speed._

_I received three speeding tickets the first two weeks alone. When Landry hauled me into his office and threatened to install a governor on my car I decided maybe I should give it a rest. It wouldn't do me any good to get booted from the SGC. Besides, ninety miles an hour didn't blur the world enough for me to forget where I was or what I had lost. It took getting trapped in an energy field with McKay to do that. It took falling back into a routine of running for our lives and fighting for our very existence to see the light at the end of the tunnel._

_Or maybe it was a penlight shining in my eyes._

"_Colonel, can you hear me, lad?"_

_A familiar voice. A voice that reminded me of home. A voice that had welcomed me back more times than I could count. But where were the other voices? The ones that were usually there urging me back right along with Carson. _

_Pegasus. Teyla and Ronon were in Pegasus. But I wasn't there. I was on Earth. I had lived the future we were doomed to miss if we didn't get back. We had moved so fast during the previous jump that we passed up our stop and moved on to the next one. And that brought to mind the other person that should've been there._

"_R'ney?"_

_The light was back, as was Carson's voice. "It's Carson, Colonel. Rest easy, we're going to take care of you." But not McKay's. Where the hell was McKay? He had been there. He had said he understood. Didn't he jump with me? If he hadn't jumped, why? And if he had jumped, why wasn't he answering me? _

_Then the light vanished and I was flying again, lifting up, up, up and even in the darkness I could feel the movement, feel the speed increasing, the rush of the world around me, the voices blurring into the periphery, smearing into that amorphous form outside the cockpit._

_Life comes at you fast, no doubt about it. But then again, so does death._

xxxx

Intelligence gathering was not exactly the most glamorous of assignments he could have been given. Then again, if it served the Hive, he would do as ordered by his Queen. But to sneak, to slither in the shadows instead of holding his head high and walking among these human herds like the dominant species they were, not to mention the frustration of having such succulent morsels before him and not being able to feed…well, it was more than wearisome.

And these humans here on Earth, they were beyond annoying. Why they would not simply accept their fate and stop struggling under the delusion that they would eventually defeat their betters was mind-boggling. It had been decades and still they resisted. And although the Hive would not admit it, the humans were making progress and recovering from the devastation the initial cullings had wrought on the planet. Many felt that they should just concentrate on the other worlds within this galaxy, leave Earth and its technology and advanced allies, and concentrate on those closer in development to the feeding grounds that they had left behind. But the Queens believed that as long as Earth resisted they could never truly rule in this galaxy, which had many wondering why they didn't just return to their own galaxy and reap the rewards of several generations of population growth there.

Moving among the rubble, he adjusted his night goggles so that he could read his energy detector. This pile of debris had been the primary research facility the humans had used to develop their weapons and technology. It had also been one of the very first locations they had destroyed. But the humans had maintained a presence here. Building houses from the wreckage, a small band had settled near the ruins, clinging to false hopes and shattered beliefs that they could rise once again to what they had been before.

As if they had even a sliver of a chance that that would happen. The Lanteans hadn't been able to defeat the Wraith millennia past. All they had done was bury their city at the bottom of the ocean and run like frightened children. The irony was that by running, they had lured the Earthlings to their city, which had in turn led the Wraith to the richest feeding grounds they had had in ages. No, the Lanteans couldn't defeat the Wraith, and their silly mechanical creations couldn't destroy them, nor could they hold their beloved city. Once the city was in Wraith hands, the trail to Earth was open to them and the fate of the humans of this galaxy was sealed. And yet, their fate was something they refused to accept.

It was so tiresome when the food supply exhibited delusions of grandeur, although it definitely added a certain delicacy to the meal itself. And maybe that's why they didn't simply destroy Earth– they had grown accustomed to the taste of resistance, the flavor of denial, the essence of a people that still had strength and the desire to fight seasoning the life forces they took from them. It was heady stuff, exhilarating to feed on that sort of defiance, almost intoxicating to take away the power these humans thought they held, to watch the fire fade from their eyes as he stood above one and proved it was nothing more than chattel for the feast.

But not tonight. Tonight called for stealth, and a snack, no matter how tempting, would only draw attention to the fact that they knew the humans were planning a counter attack, that they were working to develop a new weapon, and they thought it was a secret to the Wraith. Arrogant fools. He had already learned the location of their research facility, buried beneath the rubble of the one that had been destroyed all those years ago. But contact time was fast approaching and his transport would be arriving shortly, so it would take another trip to find the entrance and be able to see exactly what they were developing. He had scoured the entire debris field and found nothing, which made him wonder if they were using some sort of transport device to enter the base instead of a simple door.

So, it was with a bit of surprise that he heard the two men making their way out of the ruins that moments before had been totally empty.

"Where the hell are we?" The man speaking was leading the other one across the remains of the building, one hand on his arm to make sure he didn't fall, which he seemed to be on the verge of doing.

The weakened man stopped and studied the sky for a moment. "Earth. We're on Earth. See, there's Orion and Gemini. They're right where they should be if this is Earth we're standing on."

"Well, that narrows down the planet. But where exactly are we on Earth, and when? I thought that little trick to leave the barn would have brought us back to Area 51." The other man swayed where he stood, causing the one asking the questions to wrap an arm around his friend to keep him on his feet. "McKay, you need to stay with me here."

"Just need to rest a minute. Do you have some Tylenol in your pack, Colonel? I can't seem to find mine."

Colonel. The man was part of their military then. He had fed on more than his fair share of colonels since their arrival in this galaxy. They were some of his most memorable meals. And maybe one more human wouldn't be missed. Tempting. Very tempting.

"Sorry, Rodney, I'm all out." He tried to get the man moving again but his charge's knees wobbled on the first step.

"Seriously, Sheppard, I just need five minutes here."

Through the night goggles he wore, he could see the colonel frown before easing the sickly man, McKay, to sit on a large chunk of stone. "I guess it couldn't hurt to get our bearings before we get moving again." The other man simply slumped where he sat, pulling the dark cloak he wore a little closer around himself. "How's the arm feeling?"

"It was mauled by a cougar. How do you think it feels?"

"Look, this is reinforced concrete you're sitting on, which means we must be in fairly modern times here on Earth. If we can find any sign of a human settlement, chances are we can find some medicine… antibiotics, painkillers… and some food and water. I think we could both use that right about now."

"Not hungry," McKay told him. "Actually feel a little queasy."

"It's been over a day since you last ate, Rodney. Your blood sugar's down. The last thing we need is you having a sugar crisis on top of the injuries to your arm." The colonel climbed on top of the rubble McKay was sitting on and scanned the horizon, squinting in the dim moonlight and trying to make out any signs of life in the distance.

"Fine. You find a McDonald's and order me a Quarter Pounder with Cheese. I'll wait right here until you get back."

"I thought we weren't going to split up again."

Digging in his pocket, he fished out his communication device and handed it over. "Okay, call Pizza Hut, then and have them deliver a large Supreme."

Sheppard looked at the small mechanism with widening eyes. "Rodney, you're getting a signal."

Now it was McKay's turn to look up in surprise. "What?"

"You're cell phone is picking up a signal." Pulling out his own device, he smiled. "Mine is, too." Pushing a few buttons, he placed it to his ear.

"Who are you calling?"

"The SGC. Maybe they can find us using the signal and send help." He waited for a few seconds before telling Rodney, who was watching eagerly, "I got a recorded directory…something called the Strategic Earth Defense."

The Wraith almost laughed aloud at the name of the organization. It was Earth's attempt to hold off his race's advancing stranglehold on their civilization, little more than a ragtag band of military personnel from the various countries on the planet under one common command center. A last attempt to hold back the Wraith by an enemy facing utter defeat. And it seemed odd that one with the rank of colonel would be unfamiliar with the group.

A few more buttons were pushed and Sheppard was speaking again. "This is Lt. Colonel John Sheppard. I need to speak with General Hank Landry of Stargate Command." Evidently the person on the other end of the line was denying the existence of such a person because the colonel just shook his head. "Well, then who is in command of the SGC?" Another pause and he was insisting, "Look, this is an emergency, security breach tango alpha charlie, code word looking glass. Now, put someone on the line that can respond with more than just 'sorry there's no such thing.' Hello? Hello?" Flicking the device shut he threw up his arms. "Great. Either we're in an alternate universe or my security clearance was revoked."

McKay held up his own phone. "I get nothing when I call my office in 51. Wait…" He dialed again then sat in anticipation. "It's ringing," he announced triumphantly. "Hello? Jeannie?" The smile transmuted to confusion. "Madison? This can't be… oh my God, how old are you? No, no, no, don't hang up. This is your Uncle Rodney…Meredith… Rodney. Your mom's brother. Is she there? No, I'm not dead. At least not yet. Just let me talk to Jeannie… Sick? What's wrong with… wait! Don't…hang up." The last was obviously said after the fact that he had been intentionally disconnected.

"McKay?" Sheppard asked warily at the dumbstruck look on the other man's face.

"That was my niece. When you showed up at my lab she was a preschooler. That was a grown woman I was talking to, Sheppard. We're in the future."

Time travel. The humans had accomplished time travel. There had been rumors that the Lanteans were experimenting with the process before they left, but to have actually accomplished it, to be able to move freely from one time to another… They would be able to go back to the time before the invasion of Earth with the knowledge of what was to come and possibly stop it before it even occurred. His Queen would need to know this; they would need to take these men for interrogation and learn more about the technology they were using.

"Okay, there's no reason to get worked up about it." The words were in direct contrast to Sheppard's expression, however. "We've been in the past the last couple of jumps. What's the big deal about being in the future now?"

"Because I'm dead here! Madison said I was dead! That's a pretty damn big deal if you ask me."

"Rodney, you are not dead. Okay? Some alternate version of you may be dead, but you aren't. I know this because you're sitting right in front of me freaking out. I'm a little more worried that either the SGC no longer exists or never existed and exactly why that is."

"What does it matter? Either way it just means we're on our own again." He looked around at the destruction. "In the middle of a desert that's in the middle of nowhere."

"I don't think so. I see some structures off in the distance. Across the dry lakebed."

He had obviously made out the settlement in the moonlight. The humans had resettled the area given the available power and water and nothing more. It was secluded, a small gathering, barely worth the attention of the Hives. At least that's what the Wraith had thought for a while now. But if this was truly the reestablishment of their military base, then that ruse was soon going to come to an end.

Craning his neck to see off into the murky distance, Rodney asked, "How far do you think?"

"Couple of miles maybe." When McKay drooped in dread, Sheppard encouraged him. "Hey, if there are people they might have medical supplies and food."

"And if there aren't people?"

"At least we'll have some shelter from the desert sun when it rises."

Sighing, Rodney started to push himself up from his seat. "Well, if we're going to avoid sun stroke on top of everything else, we better get moving now."

Helping his injured companion stand, Sheppard gave a roll of his eyes. "There's that McKay never-say-die attitude I've been waiting for."

"Oh, shut the hell up. I'm dead, you're at the very best AWOL and at the very least wearing polyester, and Madison may have children of her own. Not to mention that my sister is evidently sick and I have no idea how serious it is and no way to even get to see her if I did. We've been bouncing around time and space like a couple of cosmic pinballs and if I decide to go tilt, then I think I'm entitled. And you're not exactly…"

But Sheppard stopped the rant with a shush as he looked up in the sky because he had evidently heard the craft that was coming to take their observer back to his Hive Ship that was waiting in orbit.

McKay's irritation turned to fear. "Is that… a Dart?"

"Down! Get down!" The colonel pulled him behind a piece of the structure just as the ship passed overhead.

And the last thing the Wraith heard before the beam transported him into holding for the trip was Rodney declaring, "Oh, this is so not good."

His Queen had been very explicit in her orders– no interaction with the humans under any circumstances. So, beaming them up as well, was out of the question. But once he briefed her, he was sure things would change. And he knew where the men were heading, and with that knowledge, he had no doubt they would be able to find them.

Perhaps he would dine on colonel tonight after all.

xxxx

Two-hundred and forty-three days.

That's how long Karen Sawyer had been living in her father's house again. Lying in the bed that had been hers when she was a teenager, she stared at the dark ceiling above her and listened to her children breathing. Two-hundred and forty-three days. That's how long she had been sleeping in this bed again. Rolling away from the leg of her two-year old daughter that was kicking into her rib, she tried not to think about the years she had managed to leave this house, had managed to leave the sorrow that permeated the walls like the smell of gun oil in her father's workshop, and had slept in a different bed with the sound of different breathing drifting across her.

Two-hundred and forty-three days. That's how long it had been since she packed up Ryan and Evie and returned to the desert with its winds whipping across the playa and the surrounding mountains hazy through the heat radiating off the hard-packed ground. Two-hundred and forty-three days. That's how long it had been since she branded the W on her shoulder, right below the tattoo of the goldfish that had had her father looking at her askance when she was nineteen and asking why in the hell she would choose a goldfish? Because it was the antithesis of the desert, because it brought to mind cool waters and lily pads and bubbling waterfalls and everything the baked earth of the dry lakebed wasn't. Because Evan thought it was sexy and reminded him of the koi ponds his mom had taken him to when he was a kid before the Wraith had destroyed most of San Francisco in retaliation for a counter attack her own father had orchestrated.

Her father wore his W on his forearm. She used to sit in his lap and run her fingers across the puckered skin as he read her a bedtime story. She had only been about four or five then, a few years younger than Ryan was now, when she had asked him what the mark was, her small hand barely able to cover the scar.

"It's a reminder," he'd told her, "of who we've lost."

"Mommy?" The woman wasn't even a memory; she was just an image in a photograph her dad kept on the mantle.

"Yeah, mommy," he'd answered uncomfortably. "Now let's read your book."

"Why don't I have one to remind me?"

"It's not for you wear. And, God willing, you'll never have to."

But she had. Two-hundred forty-three days ago she had bit her bottom lip until it bled against the searing pain of the red metal, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her chest whenever she thought of Evan. She wore the mark, like her father, like so many others. W for Wraith. W for widow. W for why the hell did this happen to me?

For two-hundred and forty-three days she'd worn the mark because two-hundred and forty-five days ago Major Evan Sawyer, United States Air Force, was culled while his unit was attempting to hold off a Wraith attack in San Diego while waiting for reinforcements to arrive.

Giving up on sleeping, she crawled out of bed careful not to wake the kids. Two-hundred and forty-five days ago they had slept in beds of their own in a house less than half an hour from the Pacific, but since Evan's death and the move, they'd been sleeping with her. At first she had wanted it that way, wanted to be able to reach out and feel their chests rising and falling in sleep, wanted to know that at least they were still there and, therefore, so was a little bit of Evan. But over time, it had become the norm and even though their grandfather had converted his office into a bedroom for them, they never used the beds for more than playtime during the day.

"They can't do this forever, Karen," her father had remarked just the week before when she tucked them in. "Eventually they need to learn to stand on their own."

"They're kids, Dad. They don't need to stand on their own just yet. That's what they have me for."

"And a few months ago that's what they had Evan for, too. And you see how well that's worked out for them."

Karen had simply shook her head and started down the hall. "I knew I shouldn't have moved back here."

"Karen, wait." A hand gripping her arm stopped her from going any further. "This is the safest place for you and the kids and you know it."

"Why? Because the all-knowing General is here and he won't let anything bad happen to anyone he cares about?" She eyed the stars on his shoulders spitefully. "Tell that to the other twenty-two families that lost someone in the San Diego defensive, because this widow isn't buying it."

"We got those reinforcements out as soon as the Western Gate started responding, and you know it." Releasing her arm he stood a little straighter. "Now, I'm sorry as hell about what happened to Evan. He was a damn good pilot and from everything I've seen an even better father and husband. But you have to remember that you are not the only one to have ever lost someone to the Wraith. And I am going to do everything in my power to make sure I don't lose anyone else, and that means you and the kids stay here with me."

He was right; it was the safest place to be. With the tunnels leading to the underground gate, escape was just moments away. And she had no doubt that her father had made arrangements for his family's evacuation should the situation arise. But it didn't make it any easier to be surrounded by the memories of Air Force life, to see a tall, light-haired man in a flight suit from behind and think it was Evan before she remembered it couldn't be. She had been one of the lucky ones, or so they said, since she had a body to bury. But how could anyone look upon that withered husk she'd seen in the morgue and consider that lucky?

Moving through the dark living room, she checked the clock. It would be dawn in less than an hour and her dad should be home by then. He had been overseeing an operation from the SED base in Montana but it should have wrapped up a few hours ago, if all went well. God willing it had and there were no more irons heating in the fires tonight. Beside the old mantle clock sat various photos of her family. The picture of her mom and dad, the only one she had ever seen, as they stood in front of the Grand Canyon; she and Evan and the kids at Evie's first birthday; Evan standing by his F406 giving a confident thumbs-up to the camera.

He had survived the crash. A dart had shot down his craft but he had evidently survived. The Wraith didn't feed on the dead. With a shake of her head to clear that useless thought, she made her way into the kitchen to start the coffee. Deciding she would finish up before the power feed died at dawn, she skipped the generator and went straight for the coffee pot. She was just putting the filter in the maker when she heard the front door open. Walking with the carafe in her hand, she called into the living room before she even stepped into the room.

"Dad? You want coffee or are you going to go to sl…"

The glass pot crashed to the floor when she saw not her father but two men dressed in civilian clothes who she had never seen before. She met eyes with one… taller, supporting the other… and he seemed as startled to see her as she did to see him. The gun. Her father kept a gun in his desk. Bolting for the writing table that now sat next to the door, she was stopped when the man pulled a gun of his own… an ancient thing that was probably as old as her dad… and stepped in front of her.

"Hey, whoa, stop." He raised a non-threatening hand. "Let's just talk about this now."

But she hadn't been coddled when she was raised; her father had taught her how to defend herself. The kick to the groin was swift and hard, as was the open-handed punch to his nose.

"Son of a bitch!" he wailed but she was already moving.

He made a grab for her ankle from where he lay on the ground and missed and she easily reached the desk and had the gun pointing at him.

"Easy," he coaxed as he tried to uncurl himself on the rug. "Christ. Why'd you have to go and do that?"

She was about to tell him exactly why she had done that and that she planned to do a hell of a lot worse if he and his friend didn't get the fuck out of her house when she heard a sleepy voice calling her.

"Mom?"

Across the room, Ryan was standing in the doorway to her bedroom, hair standing on end from sleep and one hand rubbing his eyes as he let out a large yawn. Looking down she saw the man on the floor now had his gun pointed at her son, blood running freely from his busted nose.

"Look," he said quietly. "I don't want to be pointing a gun at a kid. So, what say we just put both guns down and talk?"

If her heart had been beating fast before it was just about to burst from her chest now. "You first," she told him, willing her hands to stop shaking.

He slowly lowered his gun and she did the same before turning to the child. "Sweetie, it's early. Go back to bed."

"Grandpa said he was going to help me with my go cart today." Ryan showed just the slightest curiosity about the men in the living room.

"Grandpa's not home yet. I'll wake you up when he gets here. Just go back to bed, okay?"

"Evie's snoring," he protested.

Great, now the guy knew there were two kids and not just one. "Roll her over, she'll stop."

With another yawn and a silent nod, he finally went back into the bedroom. And so did her calm demeanor. "Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?"

"Sheppard?" The voice of the man on the other side of the room was barely above a whisper as he sat heavily into one of the chairs around the small dining room table and put his head down on his crossed arms, one of which was wrapped in a makeshift bandage.

"Oh, shit, McKay." He stood then, wiping absently at his nose and ignoring the gun she was again pointing at him and staggered over to the other man. "We need food, preferably something sweet."

He couldn't be serious. Break into her house and threaten her children and then expect her to bake them a cake? "Does this look like a restaurant to you?"

The man, Sheppard… and why did that name sound so familiar… knelt down beside the other man, McKay… damn, those names; she knew she had heard them before. "Rodney, hang on a second, all right?" He looked back at her and asked, "Juice? Do you have any juice?"

"Like I'm going to waste oranges on you two." Who the hell did he think he was? She had no idea how her father had managed to get his hands on the case of oranges in the pantry, the crops in California had been decimated this year and transport across the country from Florida was reserved for only the most crucial commodities. But evidently there were perks to being the daughter of a General.

"Ah, hell, that wouldn't work anyway." Reaching up onto the table he grabbed the sugar bowl and looked inside. "I need water. Just a glass of water. Do you think you could spare that?"

"Look, I want some answers and I want them now." When it was obvious she wasn't going to fetch him a glass of water, he stood and limped his way into the kitchen, crunching the broken glass beneath his feet with little notice, opening and closing cabinets until he found a glass and filled it from the faucet. "You can't just come barging in here demanding to be waited on…"

"Evidently I can." He stormed past her again, grabbed a dishtowel and smeared his own blood across it before filling it with ice from the freezer, then headed back to his friend. "Where the hell did you learn to hit like that anyway?"

"My dad," she told him, feeling rather foolish for still pointing the gun at him when he couldn't have cared less about it.

Taking the sugar bowl, he dumped almost half of it into the glass of water then squatted in front of McKay again as he swished it around. "Here, drink this." Fevered blue eyes opened and looked at Sheppard in confusion as he pressed the sugar water into his hands. The liquid sloshed violently and Sheppard helped him get the glass to his lips and held his hands steady so he could drink deeply.

Once his friend was taken care of and had his head back down on the table, he placed the ice pack on his own nose. "Do you have a first aid kit?"

"Of course I have a first aid kit." Who didn't have a first aid kit as part of their emergency packs? When the Wraith could bomb your city at any moment, everyone that was smart enough to deserve to live had the basic necessities. When he just looked at her expectantly, she rolled her eyes. "I'm not getting anything for you until you give me some answers."

"Let me take care of my friend and I promise I'll tell you anything you want to know." When she just stood and considered her options he continued, "Look, I don't want to shoot you, and I honestly don't think I could shoot your kids. We're just lost and hurt and need some help. And you seem like a nice enough person when you aren't trying to break my nose and ensure I never have children of my own. So do you think you could put down the gun and bring me the first aid kit?"

With a sigh, she finally lowered the gun, but stuck it in the pocket of her bathrobe just in case. She went to the closet and began rummaging through the box of supplies to find the medical kit. Behind her she heard Sheppard moving McKay to the couch. Sheppard… McKay… God, she knew those names from somewhere. Someone her dad had talked about at some point maybe. She'd have to ask him when he got home.

"Is this your husband?" The voice was nasal from the ice pack he still had pressed against his face.

Glancing over her shoulder she could see he was checking out the photos on the mantle. "Husband, dad, kids, the entire family."

"A pilot, huh?" He seemed rather surprised by that fact, so she was surprised herself when he admitted, "I've flown the F302 a couple of times myself."

"You're Air Force?"

He didn't answer, just said in an awed voice, "McKay, look at this."

Glancing back again, she saw Sheppard showing the man lying on the couch one of the photos. Why the hell were they so interested in her family snapshots?

But then McKay asked in shock, "Is that… Colonel Mitchell?"

Retrieving the kit she stood and moved to look over the couch at the picture of her dad and mom. "In that photo, yeah, he was still was a lieutenant colonel. So, you know the General?"

"General? Cam's a general now?" He tested his nose, still found blood and returned the ice.

Sheppard's amazement was only outdone by her own. No one called her dad Cam except some of the other high-ranking officers. She snatched the photo out of his hand. "Yes, he is. Now, how do you know my father?"

"Cameron Mitchell is your _father_?" Sheppard demanded. When she nodded, he dropped the ice pack and pointed at the picture. "When was this taken?"

She thought for a second. "About a year before I was born, so about twenty-eight years ago." When his eyes widened at the news, she insisted, "So are you going to tell me how you know him or not?" The way the two men were looking at each other had the hackles rising on her neck.

Finally, McKay looked up at her. "Where are we?" When she simply stared at them in confusion he demanded even more desperately. "The town, what's the name of the town?"

"Dreamland. Dreamland, Nevada." How the hell could they not know where they were?

McKay dropped his head back down on the throw pillow. "My God, Sheppard, it worked. We jumped to Area 51. The problem is, the entire facility was destroyed."

Area 51? No one had used that name since before the Wraith first attacked. And then it all clicked together. Area 51. Sheppard and McKay. The stories her father had told her about the old SGC, about Atlantis and the home galaxy of the Wraith. "Holy crap! You're John Sheppard and Rodney McKay!" Shaking her head that these two were in her living room, she pushed the kit at Sheppard before grabbing the phone. "I need to call my dad."

"He's here?"

Dialing the phone, she answered Sheppard's question. "He was overseeing an operation to try and take out a Wraith base station. But he was supposed to be home any time now… unless he got caught up, like he usually does." Realizing she was rambling on and giving information that she probably shouldn't… but holy crap, it was Sheppard and McKay!... she looked up to see the two men smiling at each other in absolute relief.

"Mitchell here."

Her father's voice on the other end of the line recaptured her attention. "Dad, you need to come home."

The worry was instantaneous. "What's wrong? Are you okay? The kids?"

"Dad, we're fine but… you're not going to believe this… John Sheppard and Rodney McKay are sitting in our living room."

"Karen, it's been a long night, kiddo. Now is not the time to be fool…"

"No, Dad, I'm serious. Two men broke into the house and they're John Sheppard and Rodney McKay."

"There are two strangers in the house? Karen, listen to me very closely. I'm sending a security detail to the house, but in the meantime there's a gun…"

"Dad, I know about the gun, I disarmed Sheppard. They're not a threat. I really think they're Sheppard and McKay. _The_ Sheppard and McKay." She held the phone up and asked the two men. "Give me something that only my dad would know about you two."

"He threatened me with a lemon once," McKay supplied.

"That's right! One I gave him," Sheppard added excitedly.

"You gave it to him?" McKay's eagerness turned to ire. "You are one sadistic son of a bitch."

Sheppard just grinned wider. "The sugar must have helped, Rodney; you're almost back to your old self."

"For someone that just had his ass kicked by a girl, you sure are smug. Although you're probably used to it by now given how many times Teyla's done it in the past."

Leaving the men to argue about the lemon, she put the phone back up to her ear. "Well? Did you hear that?"

"I'll be home in a few minutes," her dad told her dazedly and the line went dead as he hung up without even saying goodbye.

"He's on his way," she informed them then winced when she saw the red, swollen arm that was being exposed under the bandaging. "What happened to you?"

"Maybe we should save story time until your dad gets here." Sheppard's face twisted in disgust at the arm. He started working to clean and rebandage the wounds; what little color had returned to McKay's face as a result of the sugar boost quickly drained again as his friend patched him up. "Your arm's definitely infected. Maybe Mitchell can arrange for some antibiotics for you."

"We have some Keflex in the bathroom," Karen offered up. "Let me get it."

"How about pain meds?" Rodney asked hopefully. "Any pain meds?"

"I'm sure we have something," she called from the bathroom and started working through the various bottles they had. Yet another perk of being associated with the military was the access to various medications that could be scarce in the civilian population.

From the other room, she could hear Sheppard and McKay still talking about her dad. "Cam sure the hell wasn't married the last time I saw him at the SGC the day before Carson and I met you at 51. He wasn't even dating anyone. And if what she said about the photo is true, that means we're at least thirty years in the future."

"And Wraith here on Earth?" Rodney observed. "How did that happen?"

"Atlantis fell. The rest, as the saying goes, is history. Just like we thought you were." Glancing out of the bathroom at the sound of her father's voice coming in from the kitchen… he'd evidently come through the tunnels and up the hatch in the back to get there sooner… she saw him shake his head and smile in total awe. "Damn if you two don't know how to make a guy feel old."

"Cam?"

Given the grey hair, the thickening around the middle that wasn't on the lean frame in the photo on the mantle, not to mention the scar across his cheek and the pronounced limp from the crash he had survived, and wrinkles that radiated from his eyes when he smiled, which was rarer and rarer these days, it was no wonder Sheppard had to confirm it was really him.

At Sheppard's reaction to seeing her dad, he laughed. "Don't look so surprised. Some of us have aged in the past thirty-two years."

"What happened?" McKay asked as Karen handed him the pills she had found.

"I could ask you the same thing." Mitchell sat in his favorite chair before smiling fondly at his daughter. "Hey, kiddo. You okay?"

"Fine, Dad. You hungry?"

He shook his head exhaustedly and she could tell the mission hadn't gone as planned. "I'm good. But maybe our guests would like something. Preferably citrus free?"

Food. God, what was she thinking? That was the first thing Sheppard had asked for when they came in. "Oh, crap, I'm sorry. Let me fix you something." Karen all but sprinted into the kitchen and started pulling out a frying pan from the cabinet. "I used the last of the eggs on Wednesday. But I have bacon, some tomatoes from the community garden, and if Dad will give up his claim on the contraband avocado he brought home, I can make a mean sandwich."

"I guess I can share with a couple of old friends," Mitchell told them with a grin before sobering. "The Wraith have disrupted our transportation of supplies. We were pretty much at a stand still until a few years ago when Dr. Miller managed to link up a series of underground gates that we harvested from various planets around the solar system."

"Like the gate bridge," McKay concluded excitedly.

Cam nodded in confirmation. "Madison used your and Sam's plans and modified them for use at locations around the planet."

"Madison Miller? My niece? She works for the SGC now?"

"It's the SED these days, but, yeah, she's your niece through and through. She's a lot like you, McKay, except for the citrus allergies, which makes threatening her to do what I want a lot more difficult."

"She's a physicist." The man gave a contented smile. "I was afraid she'd be corrupted by her father and become a poet or writer or something useless like that."

"Too bad we haven't run into Shakespeare on one of our jumps, McKay, so you could have told him how useless he is."

At Sheppard's comment, Karen's father asked what she was thinking. "Jumps?"

"Yeah, jumps," John told him. "We've been hopping from planet to planet, time to time, thanks to the energy field Rodney was working on at Area 51. We have no control over it… well, very little, anyway. We've spent the past couple of days trying to get back to where we started."

"You know, Zelenka theorized that could be what happened to you two."

Rodney shook his head. "Radek went back to Prague when we were booted from Atlantis."

"He was brought back in when you two vanished," her father corrected. "All the top scientists that had even looked at anything Ancient were. They spent weeks trying to figure out what happened, how to get you back. But when nothing worked, they concluded that you had either been vaporized or there was no way to bring you back. They finally turned the energy field off the same day we received word that Atlantis was under attack."

"So the Wraith laid siege to Atlantis again. Didn't the Ancients hold them off?" Sheppard asked.

"Actually the Asurans took over Atlantis first. The Daedalus was destroyed by drones when it tried to deliver a nuclear strike and destroy the city. Unfortunately it couldn't penetrate the shields and the city returned fire."

"But there was a backdoor into the programming. I put it there. They could have easily changed the modulation frequency to allow Hermiod to beam a warhead in."

"Maybe so, McKay, but you were gone."

"I don't get it. Why destroy Atlantis?" John wondered aloud. "Why not take a strike force in and reclaim the city?"

"The decision was made at the highest level to nuke the city, so that's what we did… or at least tried to do. After we lost the Daedalus, Sam devised a virus to destroy the macro for the gate bridge and we lost contact with Pegasus. Then a little over a year later the Wraith showed up. Way we figure it, they took the city from the Asurans and found their way to Earth. We've been fighting them every since."

"For over thirty years?" Sheppard seemed amazed by the news and her father smiled with a bit of pride.

"We're pretty tough. But it's been a rough road; we've only been making gains in the past seven or eight years. Manufacturing has been restored in a few critical areas… munitions, pharmaceuticals, heavy machinery, some basic supplies… we've managed to keep the infrastructure up and running so that people have had water, power, and communications, even if the service is patchy. If the Wraith attack a key part of the grid, we can be down for a month or more. But we've managed. We've survived, and that's all that matters."

From her spot frying bacon, Karen glanced up to see her father looking at her meaningfully. She understood that in the long run, the survival of the human race was what was most important, but sometimes she couldn't help but feel a little selfish about her own loss. When she dropped her eyes back down to the frying pan, her father resumed his story.

"And Madison's been working with the notes on the energy bridge you and your sister developed, Rodney, to try to build a new weapon. One we think will be able to take out a Hive Ship in orbit from a base here on Earth. We're still a few years away, but progress is being made."

"Jeannie! Christ, I almost forgot. She's sick. Can you get me to see her?"

Cameron Mitchell furrowed his brow in confusion, causing his old scar to tug his eyelid downward. "How did you know she was sick?"

"Cell phones," Sheppard explained. "We tried to call for help when we arrived."

The General laughed at the thought. "That must have made for an interesting conversation."

"Madison hung up on me," Rodney grumbled. "But before she did, she said Jeannie was sick."

"Yeah," Mitchell sighed. "About twenty years ago the Wraith destroyed most of the nuclear power plants here on Earth. For the first couple of years we saw a lot of high radiation exposure deaths, now we're seeing more of the down-winders dying from chronic exposure. Jeannie has lymphoma. She's in the final stages. I'm sorry, McKay, but the doctors are saying it's just a matter of time. I can try to make arrangements for you to see her tomorrow if you want. She's still in Canada and the closest gate to her home is about five hours away."

Rodney simply nodded dumbly at the news. "Sure, if we're still here, I'd appreciate that."

"Why wouldn't you be here?" Karen couldn't help asking the question as she sliced tomatoes and avocado.

John looked back over his shoulder at her. "We're still jumping. Each jump is a little longer than the last but I still figure we'll only be in this time for about eighteen hours at the most."

"Eighteen hours isn't a lot of time to pick your brains, but I guess it'll have to do." When they looked at him in confusion, Cameron continued. "Back on Atlantis, you two probably dealt with the Wraith more than anyone else. Hell, you even had control of a Hive Ship for a time. There aren't many people left that have that sort of experience. All the others… well, it's been a while since we've had someone with first hand experience like that to talk to."

The early years of the attacks weren't something her dad talked about too much and Karen hadn't even been born yet. But she knew he had lost a lot of colleagues, a lot of friends, some that were like family to him. Chances were the same that it would have been true for Sheppard and McKay, as well. Only difference was they didn't know it, nor did they really have time to learn it.

Flipping the bacon, she listened to her father implore the two men, "Any ideas you might have, a fresh set of eyes on our plans, anything would be appreciated."

"What about Carson's retrovirus? The one that turns them human?"

Rodney's question had her dad shaking his head. "It was a short term weapon; if you can't hold them, all it does is buy a little time. They developed a vaccination against the effects within a few years and although Beckett was able to modify the virus slightly, it lost its effectiveness."

"We'll be happy to help any way we can, Cam," Sheppard assured him. "But do you think McKay here could see a doctor about his arm? He was attacked by a mountain lion. You're daughter was gracious enough to give him some antibiotics but a prognosis from a real doctor would definitely make me feel better about it."

Her father grinned proudly. "She did that to your nose, didn't she?"

"Hey, I've been shot by a staff weapon, hit by a car, and barely ate or slept in two days."

Sheppard's defense had Karen blushing at her actions but her father just gave her a wink. "Sounds like you could use a doctor then yourself, Sheppard. I'll have one of the base medics come by." Standing, he reached out a hand to shake Sheppard's. "It's damn good to you see you again, Colonel."

John returned the handshake and the smile. "You too… General."

"McKay?" Rodney didn't even seem to see the hand her father offered to him and blinked in surprise when Cam called his name.

"Oh, yeah, a doctor would be good," he said absently as he shook the hand.

The two Air Force officers exchanged worried glances before her father joined Karen in the kitchen to call the base. Placing the bacon on the slices of bread, Karen could hear Sheppard ask quietly, "You okay, Rodney?"

"Well, let's review, shall we? We're trapped in an energy field that we obviously never get out of, Atlantis falls, Earth is attacked by Wraith, and my sister is dying. What do you think?"

"Maybe we can't save this reality, but that doesn't mean we can't warn others. You said it yourself, there are millions of multiverses out there."

"Yes, millions. There's no way we can save them all."

"Then we save the ones we can," John stated simply.

"So this is what we do for the rest of our lives? Just jump from reality to reality warning the masses about their impending doom? And screw getting back to our own reality?"

"Maybe this is our reality, McKay." He sighed before continuing. "Adina told me I'd be faced with a decision soon. One where I'd have to choose where my loyalties rest. I think she was talking about Atlantis, protecting it. Maybe this is what she meant. Maybe we're meant to stop this from happening."

"If the Ancients want us to help them by spreading the word of Atlantis' imminent demise, why are they sending us all over the goddamn galaxy? Why not send us to Atlantis and let us stop it from there? Or for that matter, why warn us at all? Why have two people that aren't even allowed to go to Atlantis bear the responsibility when they could just warn their own kind that booted us out in the first place?"

Sheppard shrugged. "Hell, Rodney, I don't know. Why do the Ancients do anything they do?"

"Because they want to."

The snort of agreement from John told Karen what both men thought of the race. "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."

Finishing up with the cooking, Karen made her way back into the living room. Her father was still on the phone, which meant the request for a doctor probably turned into dealing with some other crisis at the base. She handed over the sandwiches and a couple of glasses of water, which both men practically inhaled. Karen sat and watched them, trying her best not to appear too star struck by the fact that two time travelers were sitting in her house.

"Can I get you something else? Coffee maybe?"

"Coffee." McKay said the word almost dreamily as he let out a yawn. "That would be amazing."

"I'm not sure it would do you much good," she admitted with a grin. "Those pain killers you took pack quite a wallop."

Her father joined them again and agreed with her assessment. "Actually, you both look like you could use some rest. If you're going to jump again, you might as well take advantage of being in friendly territory. Who knows when you'll see it again?"

John already had his head leaning back against the sofa where he sat at Rodney's feet. "The doctor?"

"Will be here in a couple of hours. He's been deployed to a mass casualty operations right now."

Karen looked to her father, who was pointedly not looking at her. Things really had gone badly on the mission then. Sheppard simply nodded his head in understanding, slumping down into the sofa a little further in exhaustion. McKay already had his eyes closed where he lay curled on his side, twitching once in approaching slumber. She could only imagine what these two had been through the past couple of days and what they had to look forward to.

The two men were sound asleep almost in less time than it had taken them to eat their food, and the General left to report back to the base a few minutes after that, leaving Karen alone with a house full of sleeping people. Gathering dustpan and broom, she turned her attention to cleaning up the broken glass from the coffee pot. It would be a few hours yet before the kids woke up, and hopefully by that time her father and the doctor would be back. And maybe by then she could have a real meal waiting for them instead of a couple of sandwiches.

The first rays of sunlight were cutting through the windows when Sheppard jerked awake, looking around the room in a disoriented panic. "Colonel?" she called soothingly. "Are you all right?"

"Go. Take your kids and go. The Wraith are coming."

"What?" she demanded in alarm but he ignored her, shaking at McKay's leg instead.

"Rodney, wake up. We have to go."

The physicist simply pulled the blanket she had placed over him a little further over his shoulder and mumbled an incoherent protest to the interruption.

"McKay! Come on. We've got Wraith." He shook the leg a little harder and gained a confused and groggy scientist fighting to sit up.

"What's the matter? Something wrong with the ZedPM?"

"Not exactly." John stood, tangling briefly in his own blanket, and tried to pull McKay to his feet. "Karen, get your kids and take them to the tunnels."

Sheppard's reminder had her darting for the bedroom and grabbing Evie even as she shook Ryan awake. By the time she had them out in the living room, Rodney was swaying where he stood, trying to make sense of what was happening through the fog of the drugs he had taken. "How did they find us through the shield?"

"We're not on Atlantis, McKay. We're on Earth, remember? I need you to snap out of it."

"How do you know there are Wraith?" Karen asked even as she led the way to the back door, grabbing her cell phone on the way out.

He didn't have to answer. She could hear the whine of the Dart overhead and she stopped in her tracks in the doorway. The entrance to the tunnel was in sight, but there was a lot of open space between her and it.

"They're after us," John explained from behind her, his hand as firmly on McKay's arm as Ryan's was on her own.

"Why would they be after you? How would they even know you're here?" He was obviously still half-asleep. Flipping the phone open, she dialed her dad's number. "Come on, pick up," she pleaded frantically under her breath. Finally, he answered. "Dad, there's a Dart flying over the house."

"Karen, get to the tunnels. Security should be scrambling the F406s as soon as they detect them."

The Dart buzzed over their house again and she started to think maybe Sheppard knew something she didn't. "No, Dad, you don't understand; it is right over our house. Colonel Sheppard's convinced it's looking for them."

A bang on the front door had her jumping with a yelp. Sheppard turned and aimed the archaic gun he carried toward the door and her dad was calling to her through the phone. "They're at the front door," she whispered into the phone as blood thrummed loudly in her ears. Evie whimpered against her shoulder and she tightened her arm around the girl. They'd have to make a run for it. But if they were at the front door; chances were they had the back covered as well. "Dad?" As if he could do anything about it through the phone. But if he had been there, she would have been tempted to bury her face against his chest the same way Ryan pressed his into her hip.

"Ma'am, it's Sgt. Cole," a voice called through the door. "Open the door."

Releasing a sigh that passed down to her knees, she told her dad, "It's security." John unlocked the front door and a detail of armed men entered the house.

"They'll take care of you," her dad assured with an exhalation of his own. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

"Yeah, okay," she agreed, willing her breathing to regulate. "We'll see you soon."

"This way, ma'am." The sergeant and his men started to lead them outside, and she did her best to stop Evie from crying as the little girl clung tightly to her mother.

"Shhhh, baby, it's okay," she promised, her other hand clinging tightly to Ryan's. There was no way in hell she was letting the Wraith take another person she loved and it took her a second to realize she could let go of her son when one of the security detail picked him up to move them a little faster toward the tunnel entrance.

The Dart was directly overhead once again and she broke into an all out run, not daring to look back until they reached the door. One guard was already there, having entered the security code to open the large hatch. She handed Evie in then glanced behind her in time to see Sheppard, McKay and the guard bringing up the rear disappear into a Wraith culling beam.

"No!" she screamed as the three men simply vanished into the shimmering light. The guard in the tunnel pulled her forcibly back inside, triggering the door closed behind them. "No, we have to go back! We can't let the Wraith have them! We have to go back!" But what could they do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The look on the sergeant's face just confirmed what she already knew.

"Ma'am," the sergeant told her sympathetically, "your father will be expecting you."

Yeah, her father would be waiting. He'd be waiting to be told that he had lost two more people to the Wraith. Two more friends that he'd never see again. And she seriously doubted the fact that he had just found them again after thirty years would be much consolation this time around.

But she was alive, the kids were alive, and that's all that really mattered when you got right down to it. Be thankful for what you have. It was the world they lived in. The world she had been born into. The world her children would inherit from her if she could keep them alive that long. And two-hundred and forty-five days of mourning wouldn't change that. Her father had been mourning for over thirty years and that sure as hell hadn't change things.

Evie pulled in a hiccupping breath and Ryan ran to her as soon as the guard put him down. "It's okay," she assured them. And given the parameters of their lives, it was. That was something she was just going to have to accept. "Come on, let's go see Grandpa." He'd be waiting, he'd be worried. Besides, she had some news that he needed to hear.

xxxx

Danny Miller had pretty much screwed off the first eighteen years of his life, and he had pretty much fucked up the years between thirteen and eighteen. So that a week before his eighteenth birthday, when his mother was called out at two a. m. to pick him up at the police station, yet again, she gave him an ultimatum. On his eighteenth birthday, he could go enlist in one of the branches of the armed forces or go mooch off of his father, if he could find that sorry bastard, because she was done bailing him out of trouble.

"Mom," he had said in his most condescending tone as he pushed a strand of dyed jet-black hair out of his eye and back behind an ear with six small rings around the ridge, "people _die_ in the military. We're at war, you know."

"People die in prison, too, Danny. They die on the street. They die in their beds. It would be nice that when you did die, your life had had some meaning beforehand."

A week later he'd found himself in the Air Force recruiters office. Why the Air Force? Because the white Navy dress uniforms made them all look like pansy-ass deliverymen, and who the hell wanted to be referred to as seaman anyway. The space marines in that old movie 'Aliens' all died horrifically and the Army ROTC kids in high school just seemed to do nothing but march around the football field all day. Besides, there were jets in the Air Force and the spacecraft– Intergalactic battle cruisers and the F406s that streaked across the sky in pursuit of Darts. He'd seen an old F302 at an air show once when he was kid and had thought that was impressive, but to see a 406 in action, even in the recruiting film, just about made him crap his pants. And even though he didn't have a chance in hell of ever flying one of those babies, just being near the runway and maybe finagling his way into one someday was good enough for him.

And now, eleven years after enlisting, his hair was back to its natural light brown, the holes from his piercings were empty, he still thought the Navy boys looked like pansy-asses, and he was finally up in orbit. Unfortunately, he was on an enemy vessel and chances were he'd never see Earth again. How's that for irony? Sitting up slowly against the ache that ran through every inch of his body, Danny surveyed his surroundings. He was in a cell, obviously Wraith in design, where he and the two other men that had been culled had been unceremoniously dumped. He had no idea who they were, but they had been in the General's house when the attack commenced so he had to think they were pretty damn important.

At least the team had managed to get the General's daughter and grandkids to safety; he had seen them make it through the doorway to the tunnels just as the culling beam took him and he lost consciousness. That had been their primary objective– save the General's family. Mission accomplished, break out the beers, and raise a toast to the dearly departed Danny Miller. Although getting VIPs and his own ass in the tunnels would have definitely been a better end to the story than waking up in a Wraith holding cell while your buddies back on Earth sang a few rounds of Danny Boy over a couple of six packs.

He crawled his way to the man nearest him, dressed in civilian clothes with a bandage on his arm, and gave his shoulder a shake. "Sir? Sir, can you hear me?"

Blue eyes blinked open, giving him a quick dismissive glance before looking up at the ceiling. "Goddammit, we're on a Hive Ship." The observation was much more of resigned annoyance than the all-out panic he was expecting from a civilian. And how in the hell had he realized where they were so quickly? "Where's Sheppard?" The man tried to sit, failed on his first attempt, and grabbed Danny's arm to hoist himself up. "The Queen hasn't taken him yet, has she? They tend to have a thing for him."

"Is he the one wearing the shirt with all the horses?"

"Mustangs," the man corrected as he squinted into the dark corner Danny had indicated to see the second man sprawled on the floor. He tried to stand, decided that was a bad idea and instead did as Danny had done and crawled his way to the other man. "Sheppard, rise and shine."

The man flinched away from the touch, relaxing slightly when he saw who had delivered it, then looked around himself. "Son of a bitch," he complained in the same irritated tone the first man had used. "We're on a Hive."

"Yeah, and we're not alone." The man sat with a loud yawn and leaned his head back against the wall of the cell even as he flicked a hand toward Danny.

"What's your name, Sergeant?" The man with the hor…mustangs asked as he rolled his neck against the pain from the beam.

"Daniel Miller, Sir." He felt that he should say something to reassure the two men; after all he was the one with the military experience here. But, really, what could you say when you were prisoners on a Wraith ship?

"Lt. Colonel John Sheppard," the man offered in way of introduction and Danny instinctively felt his back straighten in the presence of a ranking officer. The colonel waved a hand to indicate a silent 'at ease' before hitching a thumb at the other man. "This is Rodney McKay."

"_Doctor_ Rodney McKay," the man stressed, although he kept his eyes closed where he sat. "If you get to claim rank, then so do I."

"He's not a real doctor," Colonel Sheppard explained in a loud whisper. "One of the physics PhD types."

Dr. McKay, PhD, simply flipped him off. "I've saved your sorry ass more times than Carson ever has."

"You two can compare notes when we get back on who has that honor." Sheppard stood, wobbling slightly, before he made his way stiffly to stand at the odd bars of the cell. Danny followed him, peeking over his shoulder into the deserted corridors of the ship. "I don't suppose you have a knife hidden on your person somewhere, do you Miller?"

"I'm not sure where you think I might have something like that hidden, Sir. But the implications are bordering on Don't Ask, Don't Tell."

The colonel looked longingly across the way at a panel in the wall and sighed. "Yeah, I was kind of afraid of that. But seeing as I've been MIA, KIA, AWOL, take your pick, for over thirty-two years, it would be kind of hard to report me."

What? Did the man join up when he was in first grade? As tempting as it was to ask the officer that question, he went with, "I take it you've been on a Wraith ship before."

"Several, actually." He grinned then. "Even flew a Dart once."

"So, you can get us out of here?" Danny couldn't keep the excitement from his voice.

Sheppard's wavered. "Normally I have someone with a lot more hair and even more knives with me. Or a Jumper or even the Daedalus waiting in the wings. This time might be a little trickier."

Jumper? Daedalus? The Daedalus was destroyed… Holy crap! The same time this guy claimed to have gone missing.

The colonel grimaced before calling behind him. "McKay, you have any ideas? McKay?" When he didn't receive an answer, he turned to see the man snoring against the back wall. "Christ. I knew those pain killers were a bad idea." He went and squatted by the scientist. "Rodney, come on. I need you to contribute here."

"Get Radek to do it; I'm taking a nap." The mumble earned him a flick to the ear and the glare in return was met with a scowl from Sheppard.

"A Hive Ship is not the place for a nap, Rodney." The sound of approaching footsteps, however, had McKay sitting up and taking notice. "Crap, here we go. Look," Sheppard told him quickly, "if I don't come back, you can still jump. All right?"

"Sheppard, we could jump right now," McKay insisted, grabbing the man's arm as he started to stand.

A quick but meaningful glance toward Danny had the colonel shaking his head. "No, I can't, not unless that's the only way out. But if they come for you and I'm not back, then you'll know I have, and you do the same."

He stood then, facing the Wraith that entered the cell, leaving McKay hissing an exasperated, "Sheppard!" behind his back.

Danny had actually never been this close to a real live Wraith before. The two faceless creatures behind the one obviously in command just stood menacingly with stunners across their muscular arms. The one in front tilted his head, showing the geometrical tattoo that ran across his temple and started to speak.

The colonel, however, cut him off before he could. "I know the routine. Let's get this over with; it's been a long day."

The Wraith in front bared his teeth in a bizarre combination of smile and silent growl, signaling the other two to bring the prisoner. They each grabbed an arm, yanking harder than was necessary but Sheppard managed to keep his feet. With a final glance over his shoulder, he told Dr. McKay, "Adina says we need to think of when. That'll send us home."

Another yank in response to his words had Sheppard stumbling and McKay on his feet. "Sheppard, goddammit, we can jump now!"

But the cell door was already closing and the Wraith and Colonel Sheppard were already disappearing down the hallway. McKay stood and shook his head in disbelief, asking no one in particular, "Why does he do that? Why?"

"Are they going to feed on him?"

Danny's question was filled with dread of what was to come and had the scientist snapping irritably, "In all likelihood, yes. And I seriously doubt the one that does it this time will be kind enough to undo the effect this time around."

"This time? It's happened to you two before?" Because that was just bat shit crazy.

"Not to me, but to Sheppard, yes, it did." He waved a hand and stared out the bars again. "Look, it's a long story."

"And you've got something better to do in the meantime?" There was something about these two, something pretty phenomenal if it were true and at least something to take his mind off of their predicament if it weren't. And Danny's curiosity was piqued. Besides, if it occupied him, it would occupy McKay, as well. And that seemed like the thing to do.

"You mean besides obsess about the fact that we're trapped on a Hive Ship, they just took Sheppard and we're next?" When Danny shrugged, McKay threw up his hands and sighed. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

Over the next hour, Danny heard tales of a time before the war in a galaxy across the universe and the two men that had lived there before they had become trapped in a bizarre time travel story that would have had H.G. Wells scratching his head. And the story that he heard that wasn't told so much with words, but with expressions and exasperation and emotions, was a story of friendship between these men, the people that went to Atlantis with them, and the people they met while they were there.

"Ronon could really hide knives in his hair?" Danny laughed at the thought.

"Are you kidding? He could hide a grenade launcher in that mess."

"Well, that at least explains Colonel Sheppard's comment to me earlier."

At the mention of the colonel's name, Dr. McKay did what he always did– checked his watch and looked toward the bars of their cell.

"Yeah," he recovered quickly. "I'm not entirely convinced, but I think Ronon might have carried one _there_, as well, because I can't think of where else that one would have been that he used to cut our way out of those cocoons the two of us were trapped in." He rubbed at tired eyes and stifled a yawn against the lingering effects of the drugs he had taken.

"You were in a cocoon?"

He ignored the question, instead standing and watching the door. Danny could hear it, too; the sound of feet striding purposefully down the hall, but even more importantly, the distinct sound of boots being dragged along with them. McKay's hands flexed nervously at his side and didn't stop until he saw Colonel Sheppard being brought into the cell and that he hadn't been fed upon.

The two of them caught the semi-conscious man before he hit the floor, moving him out of reach of their captor. "Sheppard, what happened?" They lowered him gently and propped him against the wall as his head rolled drunkenly.

"Queen." He licked his lips, trying his best to focus on McKay and struggling to speak. "Wants to know… how we jump."

"Bring him." At their commander's order, the guards each took an arm and McKay was lifted to his feet.

"Tell her," Sheppard mumbled before losing consciousness completely.

"Yeah, good plan." Danny watched as the physicist was taken wide-eyed from the room. He followed to the door, looking out the bars at the retreating forms as McKay tried to convey one last message. "When he wakes up… Ow! Watch the arm! Where are you taking me, anyway?" Then the voice cut off and Danny was left alone with Sheppard, waiting for the man to wake up.

It was a good half-hour before he did, groaning against even the dim light in the room and cradling his head. Danny turned from his post at the door when he heard the sound.

"Colonel, are you all right?"

"Is McKay back yet?" When Danny shook his head no, Sheppard leaned his back against the wall. "Fuck."

"Sir, what did they do to you?"

"That goddamn mind meld shit they do. Feels like they install an amplifier in your head, hammer it in place with railroad spikes using a sledgehammer, then turn it up to eleven." Pulling his knees up and turning a shade paler, Danny was afraid he might puke right then and there. Instead, he eased his head down again. "Goddamn, that hurts."

Unable to think of a proper response to that observation beyond, "Sorry, Sir," and having nothing to offer, not even some water, Danny simply returned to the cell door to watch for the return of Dr. McKay. He'd be next. The Wraith would come for him next, he was sure. And it wouldn't take long for them to realize he didn't know jack shit about time travel.

Time travel. No wonder the Wraith were interested in these two. If they could learn the secrets of time travel, they could stop every resistance that the Milky Way held for them. And if they couldn't, they could at least stop the men that could do it. Because what a threat that would pose. Knowing the attack was coming, being able to keep it from ever happening. The best offense was a good defense and, man, nothing could beat time travel for that.

"Colonel?" Danny asked hesitantly after several long minutes. "If you can get back to your own time, do you think you can stop this war from ever taking place?"

Sheppard lifted his head to peer at the sergeant across his knees. "You and McKay evidently chatted while I was gone."

"Yes, Sir. He told me about Atlantis and Teyla and Ronon and all the others there. And all the things you guys did."

"Really? Rodney told you about that?"

"He may have exaggerated a little bit. I mean, one man can't save Atlantis that many times."

"You'd be surprised," he admitted, deciding he was ready to try gaining his feet. Danny closed the distance between them and offered a hand, which he gladly took.

"So, do you think you could do it? Stop the war from ever starting?"

"Hell, Miller, I don't know. We've done a lot more with a lot less information than we have right now." He sat heavily on the bench in the room. "But I honestly don't know if we'll ever actually make it back to our time. We didn't in this reality."

"But you could in others?"

He seemed to consider how to answer that before finally responding. "Yeah, I think we could."

"This Adina person, she told you how to do it, didn't she?"

Eyes narrowed in contemplation of the sergeant. "Why are you asking me about this?"

"Because you should go, if you know how." Danny hadn't missed the look Sheppard had given McKay when the scientist was trying to get him to leave. He knew the colonel was hesitating because of him. Because they might be able to jump, but they wouldn't be able to take Danny with them, and that would mean leaving him behind to a death at Wraith hands with no chance for escape.

Danny had fully expected the bristling tone he received in response to his suggestion. "I'm not in the habit of leaving a man behind, Sergeant."

"No offense, Sir, but I don't think you're in the habit of bouncing around in time either."

"I'm good at adapting," Sheppard defended, sitting a little straighter.

"Colonel, we aren't going to win this war. The best we can hope is to maintain a balance for a while, but this war won't end. Eventually the Wraith are just going to get sick and tired of us fighting back and destroy everything and everyone here on Earth. Did you know that the average age of an enlisted man is twenty-seven? Way I figure it, I've had two years I never should have had."

"Odds were made to be beaten, Miller. Don't you ever forget that."

"What are the odds that I could have the chance to stop this war from ever happening? That millions of lives could be saved? That in some alternate reality I might have the chance to grow old when in my own I'm already cheating death every day." Sheppard just frowned harder but didn't say anything. "Me making it back to Earth isn't going to change anything. You and Dr. McKay jumping out of here and back to your own time could change an awful lot."

"This conversation is over, Sergeant."

But Danny wasn't willing to give in. He could finally make a difference. A real, honest to God difference. And he wasn't about to pass up this chance. "What are the Wraith going to do when they come back and take me and find out I know even less about this whole time travel thing than the two of you? That I'm just an Air Force sergeant that's never even been off world? They'll probably feed on me as soon as they find out then come back for the two of you. I'll be surprised if I last ten minutes in there. But that's ten minutes you two can use to get the hell out of here."

"Miller, what you're asking me to do… I don't know if I'm capable of doing it. I was nearly court-martialed once because I wasn't capable of doing it even when I was given a direct order."

He'd known Sheppard would be tough, but he'd have to pull his last ace out of the hole. "Colonel, Dr. McKay won't jump without you."

The colonel's eyes widened slightly at the revelation. "Did he tell you that?"

No, he hadn't. Not in so many words. But then again, hearing him talk about their adventures they'd had, the note of homesickness in his voice when he spoke of Atlantis and the others that he had left there, Danny was pretty damn sure of what McKay's answer would be. Just as he was pretty damn sure how Sheppard would answer his next question. "Would you jump without him?"

Sheppard growled, literally growled, deep in his throat. "I swear to God, I don't know who is more stubborn, you or McKay."

Danny couldn't help the smile, and even when he realized that he had probably just talked this man into letting him die, it didn't fade. It did, however, when the Wraith arrived back with McKay a few minutes later in much the same condition as Sheppard had been when they'd brought him back earlier.

"Are you sure about this?" the colonel asked when the scientist was shoved roughly toward them.

There was a split second where Danny considered saying, 'Fuck no, I don't want to die alone!' But he knew this is what needed to be done. And he could have died alone in the street, in his bed. At least this way, there was some meaning.

"Positive, Sir."

"Rodney." The colonel spoke quietly, under his breath, as he and Danny eased McKay down. Half-lidded eyes regarded him with a note of recognition that had Sheppard continuing on. "Rodney, I need your help here, buddy. You need to focus, okay?"

Cold hands clamped down on Danny's arms jerking him away and the panic set in. He was going to die. There was no getting out of this one. Then again, he felt this way going into every battle he had been in since joining the Air Force. But when he saw the distraught look in Sheppard's eyes, he squared his jaw before the man changed his mind.

The colonel drew a breath, nodded in acknowledgment, and turned his attention back to McKay. "Think about _when_ we are in the solar system."

"What are you doing?" the Wraith in charge demanded and Sheppard spoke a little more desperately.

"McKay, do you understand what I'm asking you to do?"

The scientist nodded minutely and the two men… flickered. It was working! They were going to escape!

"Stop them," the Wraith ordered, and the two that had been holding Danny lifted their stunners and aimed for the men.

Danny knocked the gun away from one of the guards, but the beam fired by the other hit the two wavering images. Then he punched the second guard as hard as he could. The second Wraith simply looked at him before flinging him across the room where he slammed against the wall. Aw, fuck, that was going to hurt in the morning, he thought with morbid humor seeing as he knew he'd never see another dawn. On the plus side, there wouldn't be any more predawn training sessions either.

A pale face appeared when the stars cleared from his vision. "Where have they gone?"

Gone. They were gone. It had worked. And the terror he had felt before simply melted away. "They've gone to fuck you guys over but good."

The face sneered menacingly at the grin on Danny's face. "Bring him. The Queen herself will want to strip his being dry."

"A meal fit for a Queen. I'm flattered." The hands were yanking him back to his feet but once there he held his head with an arrogance to match the Wraith storming from the cell. The cell that no longer held Sheppard or McKay. Goddamn, that made it all worthwhile. It gave purpose to his impending death and meaning to the twenty-nine years he had spend leading up to it.

His mother would be so proud.

xxxx

_TBC_


	4. Solution: Asymptotic

_a/n Once again, thanks to Koschka and Kodiak for the wonderful Beta help and to everyone who has enjoyed the fic and let me know. Now its time to wrap it up and bring it back into canon. Enjoy!_

**Solution: Asymptotic**

_The asymptote– a curve which is approached, but never reached, by a graph. Think of it as the mathematical equivalent of close but no cigar. The scientific way of saying, "Psych!" when you come within reach of your ultimate goal but don't quite achieve it. The graphical manifestation of the school bully that holds your textbook over your head just out of reach. Or, more eloquently put, the tangent of infinity. And it seemed there were an infinite number of ways this story could end for me and Sheppard._

_He could have died in the middle of a Jaffa battlefield. I could have been eaten alive by a cougar. We could have drowned in a pond, been burned at the stake, or fed upon by Wraith. But none of those had happened. _

_What would happen when we jumped again? Would we end up in a volcano? Would we be exposed to a deadly disease? Would we be shot in a liquor store robbery? At this point anything could happen. And what should we do if we really returned to our own time? Should we tell them of the impending attack on Atlantis, the domino effect that would lead the Wraith to Earth, the dark future awaiting them if they didn't act? Or should we do as Adina told us and keep it to ourselves or suffer the consequences if we didn't?_

_Shoulda, coulda, woulda. The Universe was filled with choices made and opportunities lost. An infinite number of multiverses, each formed by what could have been done, changed by what would be done, or even facing destruction based on what should have be done but wasn't, with an equal number being saved by the same act. And we had barely brushed against all the possibilities; we were little more than a tangent on the curve of the infinite number of chances that were out there._

_We had almost made it home. Almost. We were the epitome of living asymptotes to the graph of our existence. But there had been differences, subtle but there, that had let each of us know that the reality of where we each landed wasn't our own. And that revelation was more of a relief than a disappointment for me, because it was hard enough thinking of Sheppard being several hundred miles away on a daily basis but to think that he wasn't there at all, that he was still trapped on the curve of time and would never find his way back, was an ending that I shouldn't, couldn't, or wouldn't accept. _

_So it had been pretty easy to jump again, to leave behind a Carson I really didn't know and go in search of the one that I did. But I couldn't find him alone. Sheppard and I had started this trip together and it only seemed right that we should end it that way. Adina had told us to think of where we were, to think of when, so I just took it a step further. Think about where _Sheppard_ is in the solar system. _

_And it worked._

_I didn't know why we had been separated in the first place. Maybe it had been the Wraith stunner that hit us at the moment we jumped from the Hive ship. Maybe it had disrupted the energy field enough to send us in opposite directions. Maybe it had been my semi-conscious state following the Wraith Queen's interrogation and I wasn't concentrating hard enough. But when I eventually found not only Sheppard, but Adina, as well, I started to suspect that maybe it had been interference from a group of beings torn between their desire to save their ancestral home and their self-imposed restrictions not to interfere with us mortal beings. _

"_You will not be allowed to remember," Adina told us, her voice filled with remorse. "The others feel that you have seen too much. If I send you back to your own reality, they will not allow you to warn your people."_

"_Then what was the goddamn point of all this?" Sheppard demanded._

_But I knew the point. _

_It didn't matter what we'd seen. Even if we had never seen anything, we would respond to the attack on Atlantis. One way or another, I knew Sheppard and I would do everything in our power to save the city. And it had nothing to do with saving Earth. It had to do with saving a place that had come to define home and the chance to reunite the family we had found there. The point of this entire misadventure had been to give the two of us a belief that eventually we would get a second chance, we would get to return to Atlantis, that the team would come together again. _

_Over the past couple of days we'd traversed across tens of thousands of years, we'd traveled millions of kilometers between planets, and we'd exceeded the speed of light to do it. Distance equals rate times time. The variables had been immense, so large they had spanned an entire galaxy. All for a solution that was limited to two people that had formed an unlikely friendship in the midst of an extraordinary journey that had begun the day we walked through a stargate in Colorado and emerged in an Ancient city sunk beneath an alien ocean. The results were asymptotic; we would never really reach the end. But as far as I was concerned, that was fine. I really had no desire for the solution to be finite._

_No, when you get right down to it, we hadn't been given the answers on how to save Atlantis or Earth._

_We'd simply been given hope. _

_And that was something I had no intentions of forgetting._

xxxx

Carson Beckett had spent the past two and a half days in a near panic. It had all started when he nearly missed his flight to Area 51 with Colonel Sheppard. He'd left his identification in his office, seeing as he was still adjusting to carrying a wallet again in the first place, and he'd had to run back in an all-out sprint to retrieve it while the colonel stalled the flight crew for time. He had then spent the entire flight, short as it was, trying to learn the rules to craps and pai gow poker from Sheppard while the man grew increasingly flustered with Carson's inability to understand the concept of the pass line.

Then, after a quick hello to Rodney upon their arrival at Area 51, he had darted off to find Dr. Warren and drop off a report which Dr. Gill from the SGC had requested that he deliver. Dr. Warren, of course, had had questions about the prognosis for the airman in question and Carson, seeing as how he wasn't a psychiatrist nor did he play one on television nor had he ever laid eyes on the young man in question, had no way of answering. After explaining that fact to Dr. Warren for almost twenty minutes, he managed to pry himself away and go in search of Rodney and the colonel and begin their road trip to Las Vegas.

The women in the office next to Rodney's informed him that the two had gone to Rodney's research lab. The lab, which housed a humming contraption the size of a commercial airliner jet engine, was empty of any personnel. After spending another half hour roaming around the area looking for them, he finally decided to find a phone and call them, seeing that he was still adjusting to carrying a cell phone instead of wearing a radio headset and he'd left his own phone sitting on his desk back at the SGC.

When Colonel Sheppard's phone had delivered a recorded message stating that the person he was trying to reach was outside of their calling area, he had thought that was odd, but dialed Rodney's instead. When he received the same message, he had them paged over the intercom system. When they still didn't show up, and Rodney's car still sat with their luggage in the parking lot, base security was notified and an office-to-office search was undertaken. It was almost three hours after he'd arrived at Area 51, that Carson sat watching the security camera footage from outside Rodney's lab showing the two men going in followed approximately twenty minutes later by Carson entering the lab and almost immediately exiting it. Sheppard and McKay, meanwhile, had never come out of the room and that door was the only way out.

"So where are they, then?" he had asked with that feeling of dread that usually seemed to accompany anything that Rodney and the colonel undertook.

The answer had been complicated and theoretical and involved lots of equations on the white board and in the end came down to the fact that no one really knew but there was a good chance that the humming jet engine in Rodney's lab had simply gobbled them up and spit them out who knew where.

The next two days Carson spent listening to a lot of theories and watching the humming apparatus, which he learned was an experimental energy generator, while scientists he didn't know asked him a great deal of questions he couldn't answer. That damnable gene again. Evidently the generator relied on some Ancient technology that required the gene to operate. And seeing as he wasn't going anywhere for the time being and he had been born with the ATA gene, surely he could help them figure out how Sheppard and McKay had disappeared and how to get them back. That was if they hadn't simply vaporized on the spot. Carson wasn't entirely sure which option he found most dreadful─ instantaneous and irreversible demolecularization of his friends, or having to do anything that involved his gene.

The first time they brought him into the lab, they had told him, "Think them back."

"What do you mean, think them back? Back from where? We don't even know where they've scampered off to."

"He has a point," one of the men in a white lab coat pointed out. "If we don't know their point of origin, how do we know the energy field will be able to bring them back properly?"

"This isn't the stargate, Roger," a woman with narrow, wire-rimmed glasses, pointed out. "You don't have to program in the information; the point of origin is automatically calculated by the field."

"Yes," he countered shortly, "when the field is connected to the navigation system of the craft. Duh."

"Don't 'duh' me, you condescending little troll. I know how the generator links to the ship's systems; I designed the interconnections."

"Then you should know how it relies on the long range sensors and navigation to calculate the points of origin and destination."

"Yes, I am well aware of that fact."

"_When_ it's connected to that system."

Roger just stared at the woman and let what he had said sink in, and she finally said, "Oh."

Carson's attention pivoted desperately between the two. "I take it, then, that the generator is not connected into any navigational system?"

"No," Roger gloated, "it is not."

"So, should I think them back or not?"

The two scientists looked to each other before the woman pushed her glasses up academically, "We'll get back to you." And he was taken back to the break room, given another cup of coffee, and told to wait, someone would be with him shortly.

That's how things had gone over and over. They would usher him into the lab, ask him to do something, more likely than not argue amongst themselves, then usher him back out to wait until the next idea occurred to someone.

Today was no different. They had brought him into the lab again, placed him near the generator, which pretty much buggered his nerves every time they did that seeing as how he could just as easily be gobbled up by the contrivance as John and Rodney had, and asked if he could sense anything in the field. Could he detect their presence? Maybe they were there but were out of phase and they couldn't see them. And he winced in anticipation of someone asking him to shift the phase and how the bloody hell was he supposed to do that? Maybe if he turned the generator off, someone suggested, they would appear. No, someone else argued, that could trap them forever. Carson had heard rumors that Radek was on his way from Prague and wished he would arrive this very instant and put these people in their place.

But instead of Dr. Zelenka appearing on demand, Rodney did. One minute there had been no one, the next his friend flickered into existence and crumpled to the ground.

The scientists stopped arguing and simply stared at the man in a cross between dumbfounded awe and disappointment that McKay had somehow managed to return himself before they could figure out how to do it on their own. Carson snapped at them even as he moved to kneel beside Rodney, "For God's sake, get a bloody medical team in here."

Pulling the penlight from his pocket, because he couldn't remember his wallet or cell phone but the penlight was such second nature that he took it along even on holiday, he shined the small light in McKay's eyes, watching them react slowly to stimulus. "Rodney, can you hear me, lad?"

"_Colonel, can you hear me, lad?"_

"_R'ney?"_

_He couldn't help but look around hopefully for Rodney as well, but the man wasn't there. No need to tell Sheppard that just yet, seeing as the man was obviously expecting him to be there. "It's Carson, Colonel. Rest easy, we're going to take care of you." _

The reassurance did little to ease Rodney's mind. "Where's Sheppard?" he slurred. "He was…was…" but he drifted into unconsciousness before he could explain exactly what the colonel was doing.

"Turn off the generator," someone ordered, and Carson knew that wasn't a good idea.

"_No! Don't do that! The colonel made it back; Rodney may be following soon enough." A few nods of agreement had him relaxing and turning his attention to the medical team pushing a gurney through the door. "All right, let's get him transferred to the infirmary so that I can check him over proper."_

The examination of Rodney revealed an arm with large puncture wounds and claw marks on his chest, indicating that he had been attacked by a large animal. And in all honesty, the man was lucky he hadn't gone septic from the infection. In addition, the bruised and raw marks on his wrists suggested he had been bound with a rope, bruising across his back and shoulders appeared to have come from being struck from behind, and his neurological results were similar to when he had been stunned by a Wraith weapon back on Atlantis.

McKay moaned, his face twisting in discomfort, even though his eyes were still closed, but Carson encouraged him back into lucidity. "Rodney, can you open your eyes for me lad?"

_Hazel eyes blinked open in confusion that only grew when he focused on Carson's face, "Doc?"_

"_Aye, Colonel," he smiled comfortingly, "It's good to have you back."_

"_Where am I?" He tried to sit and Carson placed a halting hand on his shoulder. "What happened?"_

"_You're in the infirmary at Area 51. As to what happened, I was hoping you could tell me. You have a broken nose, a few cracked ribs and a bruise that runs along your entire left side, not to mention raw scrapes along your back , a partially healed burn to your shoulder that looks remarkably like a staff weapon wound, and a neural scan that I've never seen the likes of before. It's as if the energy field completely overloaded your entire neurological system. The closest comparison I can come up with would be a zat blast."_

"_Pins and needles," Sheppard groaned, "from the Wraith stunner."_

"_Wraith?" Carson asked in confusion._

"Yeah, we were held on a Hive Ship… in the future," Rodney explained with an impatient shake of his head. "How long were we gone anyway?"

"Over two day," Carson made a notation on the chart he had started. "And I don't mind telling you I've been worried sick. No one really knows how or what happened. And they sure didn't know when it was going to end. If you hadn't shown back up, it could have gone on for months I suppose. I was starting to worry that my lizards would starve to death if I didn't get back to Colorado soon."

"Lizards? I thought you were getting turtles?"

"Rodney, you never pay any attention. I e-mailed you last week about the lizards. Wee little geckos that can climb up the side of their tank." The scientist didn't seem the least bit impressed by the miming hand motions mimicking lizards traversing glass walls.

"Carson, I distinctly remember you e-mailing me about turtles. You were asking my opinion about a red-eared slider versus an eastern box turtle. Like I have any idea what the difference is, much less which one is the easiest to care for."

"_Yeah, Wraith," Sheppard said, as if that would explain everything. "They'll invade Earth in a few years if we don't stop them."_

"_So you did travel through time. The scientists here theorized that you might." Carson shook his head in fascination. "So what sort of creatures are these Wraith you ran into?"_

_The look the colonel gave him suggested maybe Carson was the one that had become disoriented while he had been gone. "The Wraith, Carson. The same ones from Atlantis."_

"_Atlantis?" Perhaps the energy field had done more neurological damage to the colonel than he had originally thought. He made a note in the chart to run another CT scan._

_Carson's confusion had Sheppard sitting up despite his protests. "You don't know about Atlantis?" _

"_Beyond the mythological city destroyed and sunk beneath the waves, no."_

"_When did we meet?" the colonel demanded._

_The physician considered for a moment before telling him, "Almost three years ago. When you were first assigned to the SGC. Rodney started on full time there about a month or so after you did and was just recently reassigned here to Area 51 to oversee research and development."_

_Sheppard's eyes widened in growing agitation and he looked frantically around the infirmary. "Where's McKay? Is he okay?"_

"Rodney," Carson sighed sympathetically, "Colonel Sheppard hasn't returned yet."

The look on Rodney's face told the physician that he had understood but refused to accept the news. "Hasn't returned from where?"

"Wherever the two of you were."

"No, this doesn't make any sense. All the other times we jumped together. And he was right beside me."

"Rodney, you need to calm down. If you came back, I'm sure Colonel Sheppard will, too. Why wouldn't he?"

"This isn't right. Something's not right here, Carson. _You're_ not right here. I need to go. I need to find Sheppard." He threw his legs over the edge of the bed.

Carson shook his head adamantly. "You aren't going anywhere. As soon as that I.V. replenishes your fluid levels, I'm starting you on intravenous antibiotics. Leave the searching for Colonel Sheppard to the others. If it makes you feel any better, Radek should be in this evening…"

"_Radek won't help any, Carson," Sheppard insisted as he pulled the I.V. from his hand with a wince. "I'm the only one that can find him. Now, where did I jump in?"_

_The colonel wobbled when he stood, steadying himself against the edge of the bed before taking a delicate step forward. "Colonel, you should be in bed, not running around the facility."_

"Carson," Rodney threatened as he fought to maintain his balance, "tell me where I jumped in, or I swear to God I will tell everyone in the SGC that you collect tea cups."

"That's not that unusual of a hobby," he defended warily.

"_And_ you have tea parties with your stuffed sheep."

"I don't even own a stuffed sheep, you lying bastard."

"You will by the time you get back to Colorado… a whole goddamn flock of them sitting around the desk in your office with your mother's heirloom-rose tea set."

Carson's eyes widened in outrage. "You wouldn't dare."

That stubborn jaw rose in defiance. "I'm definitely in the wrong reality if you truly believe I won't."

_Carson sighed. "You appeared in Rodney's lab. Right next to the energy generator."_

"_Thanks, Doc, I knew you'd see things my way."_

"_Only because you know where Rodney has hidden the thumb drive with those photos." Taking the colonel's arm, he helped him toward the door. "It won't do me a bit of good to have you fall and bash your head and forget what you promised me." And hopefully once Sheppard saw the empty lab, as heartbreaking as it would be, he'd be willing to go back to bed and recoup from his injuries._

_But when they arrived, Sheppard moved into the area Carson indicated. "Here? Right here's where I appeared?"_

"Yes, Rodney, right there." He didn't even try to hide the exasperation from his voice. "Why is it so important to know exactly where you were?"

"Because I'll have a better chance of finding Sheppard when I jump out again."

"_What do you mean, jump out again? Colonel, what are you doing?" And Carson decided no doctored photos were worth what Sheppard was planning to do._

"_Think about where McKay is in the solar system," he mumbled, closing his eyes and concentrating hard._

"Rodney, stop this. You just got back." But the man's image flickered and an excited murmur spread through the scientists in the room that grew into complete chaos when he disappeared.

"_Colonel?" Carson called as he waved a hand through the air where the man had just stood. "Colonel Sheppard?" he called a little louder, knowing it wouldn't do him a bit of good._

He was gone. Vanished into thin air once again. And there wasn't a damnable thing anyone could have done to stop it.

"Well, lad, I sure hope you know what you're doing." Because Carson sure didn't know what he was doing. He decided returning to panicking was as good a plan as any.

xxxx

Adina had decided that she enjoyed the sound of flowing water. Nothing too wild, nothing too dangerous, nothing that would pass above her knees, but a little brook with a waterfall had become one of her favorite places to pass the time. And these days, she had plenty of time to pass. Not like the first several hundred years of her existence. Then there was always something to do, someone who needed her help, and she had always been more than willing to provide it. And maybe that was why she was not a perfect fit with the others that had passed on.

She had loved her time on the ice, had been sorrowed to see it end. Of course the eventual loss of her people had been the truly heartbreaking part. They had aged and died, passed on to join the others, or left through the portal to finish out their lives on other worlds or in the hot sands of the land where the newest gate on their own world had been built. She had watched them go, remaining in the lodge until the very last one left her, and then she had left her mortal existence behind and passed on, as well.

This existence was easier, there was no doubt. No aching joints, no slow shuffle to reach her seat by the fire, no failing eyesight to blur the view of the children at play. But she could not deny there were times that she longed for the old ways. The sounds of the lodge when the inhabitants were just waking, the gentle rattle of snores when they slept, the knowledge that there was always someone there to sit with and chat while they wove a basket or tanned a hide─ it was a comfort she had not realized she would miss so much.

The others were always with her. Always in the back of her mind, but it was not the same. The presence was never ending whereas the lodge had given her a sense of privacy she no longer felt even though she spent most of her time alone. Large groups of people living together develop a way of cohabitating that allows them to live within imaginary walls. There may be people literally on all sides of you, but if you did not acknowledge them, they politely returned the favor. And that was why she started finding these secluded meadows and mountain streams at which to spend her time. Here she could at least pretend she was alone and unobserved as she dipped a foot into the frigid cold waters of the spring melt washing down from the peaks and remember the chill of the ice and the counteracting warmth of her people that had been gone for thousands of years now.

Perhaps that was why she chose the clearing, with a small stream winding through a pale spring meadow, purple wild flowers dotting the carpet of green, and warm sun heating the rock she sat on, to greet John and Rodney when they arrived. _Any time now_, she thought, as she watched the grasshoppers leap across the sea of grass. Surely they had figured out by now that they were not where they should be. The men were smarter than to be fooled by the tricks of the others, she knew. And a slight tingle in the air let her know she was right.

Rodney was the first to appear, wearing the same clothes he had been wearing when she first met him ten thousand years before. But of course it had just been a matter of days in his frame of reference since he had arrived on the ice, and even less since she had appeared in his dreams to warn him of the men approaching their hiding place in the barn. In that short time he had been injured, in more ways than one, and although the bandaging on his arm was new, the pain was evident on his face.

"I should have known that you would be the first to realize things were not as they should be, Rodney."

He furrowed his brow in thought when he saw her sitting on her stone seat. "Do I know you?"

She laughed lightly at the question, brushing back a strand of long dark hair that had been blown by the breeze across her unwrinkled face. "I am not sure if I should be insulted or flattered that you would forget me so soon."

"Adina?" When she smiled in acknowledgment, he just stared at her in wonder.

"You seem surprised to see me again."

"I'm surprised to see you less…" He seemed to struggle for the proper word, finally giving up on being polite and going with what he was thinking. "… old."

"Given the choice of being an arthritic old woman or one a little more agile, which would you choose?"

"I guess there are perks to being ascended."

The smile turned melancholy at his observation. "There are also draw backs, Rodney."

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me what those are. Or what I'm doing here. Or where Sheppard is for that matter. Or how we're supposed to get back."

Adina held up a hand. "All in due time. You are the most impatient man I have ever met in my life. And seeing as I am almost ten-thousand years old, that is saying a great deal."

"Well, seeing as I don't have the luxury of living ten thousand years, I'm under a little more of a time constraint than you are." She titled her head, as if listening for a distant sound, and Rodney demanded, "What? What do you hear?"

"John is arriving," she told him with a brisk wave of her hand. "Move a few steps to the right."

For once he did not argue, just moved to the side as she had requested and John blinked into existence where Rodney had stood a few seconds before.

"Well, I'll be damned," John grinned happily when he saw Rodney standing beside him. "It worked."

"Yes, we've successfully managed to jump into Adina World." Rodney brandished a disgruntled arm toward the woman who ignored his brash introduction and instead smiled warmly at the new arrival.

"John, it is good to see you again."

"Adina." The name was spoken as much as a greeting as it was confirmation of what Rodney had told him, and John raised his eyebrows at her youthful appearance. "Evidently the warm weather suits you."

"Actually, I do occasionally become homesick for the ice, although I have grown accustomed to the sunlight."

"Speaking of homesick," John started steering the conversation toward his and Rodney's real interests. "Why aren't we back in Area 51… _our_ Area 51?"

"I promise, I will explain everything. But first it seems that you are in need of my healing skills once again. Both of you are, in fact. I am a little more proficient than I was the last time we met."

She stood, closed the small distance between her and the men, and placed a hand on a shoulder of each. Rodney seemed ready to question what she was preparing to do, but the query never had a chance to form on his lips. The warmth passed easily from her, encompassing the two of them in a golden light that caused the small purple flowers growing nearest to them to turn their faces into the glow. She held them like this for several seconds before the radiance extinguished and she stepped away. John and Rodney seemed almost suspended before her, swaying gently like extensions of the grass in the breeze, a mesmerized expression on both of their faces that didn't disappear even when their knees gave out and they dropped hard to an unsteady sit on the ground.

Adina reclaimed her seat on the boulder with a great deal more grace. "Is that better?"

Rodney held up a finger, as if he were about to make a point, but he instead toppled backward into the meadow and smiled up into the deep blue sky. John propped himself on one hand to keep from doing the same as he touched tentatively at his nose. When he felt no pain there, he looked to his shoulder, then his side, both of which were completely unmarred.

Adina returned his grin and watched as he turned Rodney's arm to look for any signs of the rope burns on his wrist. "McKay, check your arm."

"Huh?' he asked dazedly.

"Your arm." When he tapped it and Rodney didn't flinch away, he started unwrapping it himself. "I think it's healed."

"Yeah," Rodney agreed with a contented sigh, not bothering to stop John or take over the task, "it is. And my head… I'm not sure which was worse, the ribbon device, the Wraith interrogation, or the caffeine withdrawal. This is the longest I've gone without coffee since the Daedalus started restocking Atlantis on a regular basis."

As he finished exposing the arm that had been mauled, Sheppard shook his head in wonder. "That's… incredible." He looked up at Adina, planning to thank her, but instead asked in worry, "What's wrong?"

It wasn't a surprising question given the way Adina's disposition had changed from pleasure at seeing the men healed to consternation when Rodney mentioned Atlantis. Well, this was the reason she had brought them here. No use putting it off any longer.

"The memories of what you have endured are also painful, are they not? I can remove them, as well." It was a slight possibility, but maybe they would agree on their own. But, as she had known all along, that was not the case.

Curiosity over seeing his restored arm may not have been enough to pull Rodney from his euphoric mood, but evidently her suggestion had. Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked at her across his chest and bluntly said, "No."

"I am sorry, Rodney, but you do not have a choice in this matter."

Sitting up even further, he looked urgently to John beside him who wore the same expression on his face. "What? Why not?"

"You will not be allowed to remember." Adina would regret doing this, but she had been given little choice. "The others feel that you have seen too much. If I send you back to your own reality, they will not allow you to warn your people."

"Then what was the goddamn point of all this?"

Sheppard's outrage had her pointing out, "John, I told you how to return home before you were taken by the Wraith. Janus had the others swayed and we had hoped that they would not interfere after you returned to your own time."

"So, what? I was supposed to let a woman and her children face the Wraith by themselves?"

Adina gave John a sympathetic shake of her head. "You care too much for things that are not yours to care for."

"Then why do you care what happens to us?"

"A family flaw, I suppose," she sighed. "One we will probably never overcome and one that's consequences you will now have to accept. When you did not go when I warned you, enough of the others changed their minds that they made sure what you saw would have little significance. They sent you to other places than your own. Places where your people never traveled to Atlantis and where Atlantis was never abandoned by her builders. Places where your knowledge would have no influence."

"But they let us jump out again," John observed. "Why do that if they want to stop us?"

"They cannot stop you from jumping. Not yet, anyway."

John's obvious attempt to reason this out for himself was interrupted by Rodney snapping his fingers in understanding. "We're still in the field. As long as they don't turn off the energy generator in our reality we still have some control."

"How much control?"

It was Adina who answered John's question. "Not enough to send you back to your own time. Not unless the others allow it."

"And in order for them to allow it, we have to lose the memories." Sheppard spoke the implications she had not.

"What if we promise not to tell anyone?" Rodney offered quickly.

Before she could respond, John practically sulked, "What's the difference between that and not remembering in the first place?"

"Sheppard, even if we didn't know anything about the attack, I'd still do everything in my power to save the city when word comes that there's trouble. Not because Earth is at risk, but because Atlantis is at risk. And you'd do the same."

"But if we could warn the SGC about it in advance, there's a chance they could possibly do something to stop it from happening in the first place," John countered.

Rodney rolled his eyes at the suggestion. "Like what? Offer our assistance to the Ancients? The ones who booted us out for not being worthy of staying in their home in the first place? Do you really think they would take any help we offered? I'm honestly kind of looking forward to seeing them get their arrogant asses kicked by their little nanite creations. We sure the hell dealt with the fallout of their mistakes enough over the past couple of years, it's about time they clean up their own mess."

"McKay," John hissed with a meaningful hitch of his head toward Adina who sat watching them with barely contained humor. She knew the others were watching this exchange, as well, but she herself had pointed out that they were not entirely without blame in this situation. And it hardly seemed fair that John and Rodney should bare the brunt of the punishment.

Rodney followed the inclination of John's head and it seemed to take him longer to understand the not-so-subtle hint he was being given than it did for him to realize that they were still trapped in the energy field. Finally the light bulb went off for him. "Oh! Uhm… no offense, Adina. After all, you weren't even born when they created these problems."

"No, but my grandfather was. In fact, many believe he overstepped his bounds when he manipulated the time flow and sent you to see me."

"Did he do this?" Rodney questioned angrily. "Did he cause the energy field to escape confinement in the first place?"

"No, he did not." At least that is what he claimed. Although with Janus, one never knew what the man might do. He had defied the orders of those in command numerous times before while still in his mortal form. Why would he stop now that he had passed on? "He only took advantage of your predicament to have me deliver a simple warning to John. It was never his intentions that you learn more than what I told you."

"But we did learn more," John challenged, "and now we're being punished? That hardly seems fair."

"I assure you, he is working very hard to present your case to the others." And in his own, undiplomatic way, so was Rodney, which prompted her to ask her next question. "So, tell me, Rodney, if the memories of your experiences here will not persuade you to act any differently when the time comes, why are you so adamant that you remember them?"

"Because they're mine." Rodney's defensive justification wavered slightly. "… ours."

"But you were lost, frightened, hurt, worried. Why would you wish to remember this?"

"Because… because…" Hands flew through the air, causing the grasshoppers to take flight around him, before both hands and insects came to rest in frustration as the flustered man blurted out, "Because that's what we do."

"Because those things you said are only half of the memories." Rodney gave John a look of utter relief when he spoke since he finally seemed to understand why the physicist wanted to remember, even if they couldn't say anything to anyone else. "The other half are… better. Definitely worth keeping."

Adina could feel the others questioning their decision and she smiled to herself. "You make a very persuasive argument."

"We won't tell anyone," John promised and Rodney nodded his head in agreement.

"We won't. You have our word."

In that portion of her mind that connected to the others, she could feel them weighing their options. She could sense her grandfather giving them each a mental nudge, delivering a cerebral elbow to the ribs and demanding that they acknowledge he had been right about entrusting these two with the wellbeing of their glorious city. It amazed her that they would be willing to let Atlantis fall in favor of their self-imposed restrictions. They claimed they were above such concerns, that they said they were no longer troubled with the fate of the material world, and yet, she could feel the way they yearned for Atlantis as if it were a phantom limb.

And eventually, that long deserted passion for the city they had left behind was enough to persuade them that John and Rodney could be trusted to keep their secret… with a minor stipulation.

"No," she informed them as she stood from her seat, "you will not tell anyone. Because if you do, the others will make sure that neither of you ever steps foot on Atlantis again."

The two frowned at the news. "Well," Rodney observed dryly, "that sounds ominous."

"We won't say a word," John swore again. "You and the others don't have to worry about it. Mum's the word."

"Actually, what is the word? We have to tell everyone back at the SGC something about where we've been and mum just isn't going to cut it."

"We tell them we don't remember."

Evidently Rodney didn't think much of John's suggestion. "I suppose you used the dog ate my homework excuse in elementary school, too."

"Bought me an extra week on my 'Treasure Island' book report." John's shrug was accompanied by a boyish grin that Adina decided probably went further in the extension his teacher had granted him than his excuse. "Besides, that's exactly what we would have said if we had lost our memories."

"I suppose that's better than a complicated story to remember," Rodney relented.

"With your lying skills, McKay, trust me; the simpler the better."

"If it is any consolation," Adina offered, "I do not think you will have to keep your secret for too long."

"And then we'll be able to go back to Atlantis?"

The eagerness in Rodney's voice almost had Adina telling them more than she should have. Catching herself before she did, she shook her head. "You already know more than you should. Do you really want to chance any more?"

"No!" John cut in earnestly. "Just send us back, before something slips out or the others change their mind again or something else attacks us."

"I think that would be for the best," Adina agreed with a knowing laugh before sobering. "What lies ahead of you… it will not be easy."

"Of course not," Rodney lamented. "It never is."

"Watch out for one other. That is the best protection that I can give you." She took a hand from each and pulled them up from where they sat to stand before her. "But from what I have seen, that is all you need."

"Thank you," John told her sincerely.

And Rodney added, "Really. For everything."

"I bid you firm footing on your passage and warm destinations for your journeys to come." With a final squeeze to their hands, she stepped back from the men. "Very well, it is now up to you."

The two men looked at each other, as if ensuring that each knew what they needed to do. "I feel like we should be clicking our heels together or something," John told his companion.

"Where and when, Sheppard. Just concentrate on where and when we are."

"Right," John closed his eyes and Rodney followed suit. "Where and when."

A single flicker and Adina was once again the only person in the meadow. Returning to the edge of the creek, she pulled her skirts up to expose her knees and stepped into the chilly water, watching the way the eddies formed around her ankles.

"You did well, little one."

Not turning to look at the man that had appeared on the bank, she snorted. "I am ten-thousand years old; I think you can stop calling me 'little one'."

"It is a grandfather's prerogative to use pet names for his grandchildren." Janus kicked off his shoes and stepped into the water beside her, not even bothering to roll up his pants legs. When she just flexed her foot and watched the water rush up the arch and around the obstruction he bumped her shoulder good-naturedly. "There is no need to worry for them, little one."

"You have looked ahead again," she accused.

"Unlike some spoil sports I know, I do not have any qualms about doing that. Besides, do you not want to know how this will end?"

Bending, she retrieved a small stone from the creek bed, "What is the point of knowing if we can do nothing about the outcome anyway?"

"Do you honestly believe that? Time flows, like this stream. Your presence may not stop the water from flowing, but it can cause it to divert, to bend, to change how and where it goes. Just like your presence in the lives of John and Rodney changed their destinies. Just like their friendship has changed them."

Glancing up at her grandfather, she asked hesitantly, "So, they will be well?"

"I thought you did not want to know such things?"

She rolled her eyes at his teasing grin. "You are the most infuriating old man sometimes."

"Old man? For being ten-thousand years old yourself, you certainly are smug."

Ignoring his insinuation about her own age, she insisted, "Are you going to tell me, or not?"

He considered for a few seconds before shaking his head, "No, I do not think I will."

Tossing the stone away, she snorted again, "Like I said, infuriating."

"But I will tell you this; saving Atlantis from the Asurans is the least of the problems they will be facing in the times to come."

Adina looked to the heavens in exasperation. "Taking care of family business can be so tiring some times."

"Well, there is some family business that keeps rearing its ugly head."

Narrowing her eyes at her grandfather, she asked, "What business is that?" When the only answer he provided was to take a step up stream and stare at her knowingly, her eyes widened in understanding. "Your time travel device."

"I admit, it has been as much a blessing as a curse."

"You did cause them to be trapped in the field, after all."

Janus sighed in response to her accusation. "I had to ensure that they did not use the device improperly. The temptation to change what should not be changed would be too great if they succeeded with the research. And Rodney was very close to succeeding."

"And what of Atlantis?"

Janus smiled. "Rodney was right; their actions will be no different in knowing what is to come than they would have been if they had remained oblivious."

"But what if they had died during their time in the energy field, or never found their way back?"

"Then Atlantis would have fallen in their reality, just as it has or will in numerous other ones." Janus stepped forward again and placed his hands on her shoulders sympathetically. "The events are not necessarily as important as the fact that they be allowed to happen as they are meant to."

"You are one to preach such lessons," Adina scoffed. "You have interfered on more than one occasion."

"And it is now my punishment to make sure that others cannot, and any interference on my behalf will be to assure the least impact on the time line."

"So John and Rodney were just pawns in all of this? Their well-being was of no concern to you?"

"Take your own advice, little one. You care too much for things that are not yours to care for."

"If they are not ours to care for, then who will care for them?"

Janus smiled affectionately. "They care for one another."

And in the end, Adina realized, as long as they could remember that, it would be more than enough to see them through.

xxxx

Radek Zelenka had arrived at the Area 51 research facility with a gloating smile and a massive case of jet lag. He had spent almost twenty-two hours in transit between Prague and Nevada, most of that on a military transport out of Germany, flying backwards, wrapped in a blanket, and wearing earplugs, while staring at the cargo being transported between Europe and the United States. But given the reason why he was flying across nine time zones to reach his destination, he might as well have been flying first class.

The phone call he had received had been vague and blunt. His presence was required to assist Dr. Rodney McKay with a problem he was having on a new project. He was to report immediately and he would be briefed further upon arrival. Rodney needed his assistance. The thought filled him with glee, so much so that he had demanded, "Why does Dr. McKay not ask for this assistance he so desperately needs himself?"

The answer from the other end of the line had been succinct. "Dr. McKay is unavailable at this time."

Dr. McKay is too much of a self-absorbed toddler to ask for help himself, was more like it. It must have killed Rodney to admit he needed help, to relent that something was beyond his magnificence and that he required the aid of someone who knew better. And who would know better than Radek? So Rodney had obviously gone to the SGC and requested Zelenka be brought in and managed not to have to ask on his own behalf.

He had thought of saying, 'No, I will not come until Rodney begs for me to come in person'. But he knew better than to do that. He still held out hope that eventually they would be allowed to return to Atlantis, to once again reside in that glorious city and resume their research. And the best way to be invited back if the time ever came would be to do as the SGC asked and come to the United States once again. And that was fine. He could taunt Rodney's inability to manage his new position for barely a month to his face. It was much more fun to see McKay turn red and stammer in person anyway.

But when he arrived at Area 51, eyes burning from lack of sleep and back aching from lack of lumbar support on the plane, he was greeted not by a desperate Rodney McKay but a desperately relieved Carson Beckett.

"Radek, thank God you're here." The physician looked as if he had slept less than Radek had.

"Carson," he frowned in confusion, "why are you here? Where is Rodney?"

"They didn't tell you? That's why you're here. He and Colonel Sheppard have vanished thanks to that bloody device he was working on."

"What device? Where did they vanish to? Why was Colonel Sheppard even here? I thought you and the colonel were in Colorado?" This was not what he had expected to hear. This was not what he had expected to deal with when he agreed to come. Although, to be completely honest, he could not say that he was surprised that Rodney and the colonel had managed to find themselves in some sort of critical predicament yet again.

Carson blinked at all the questions. "They really didn't tell you anything did they? Well, I suppose that's why they have a briefing set up for you and General Landry."

Less than an hour later, they were all convened in the conference room and General Landry seemed none too pleased to be there. "I thought Dr. McKay and Colonel Sheppard were supposed to be on leave."

"We never made it that far," Dr. Beckett admitted reluctantly.

The general shook his head in disbelief. "You would have thought separating those two by a couple of states would be enough to keep them out of trouble. Apparently, that would be an incorrect assumption." He waved a short-tempered hand at the scientist leading the briefing. "All right, let's get on with this. And might I remind you, Doctor, the term is _brief_ing for a reason."

General Landry lasted an hour and half before he announced that he had heard all he needed to hear and that he wanted an update in four hours from Dr. Zelenka, whom he was putting in charge of the operation from here on out.

Radek had straightened from the exhausted slump he had found himself sinking into and pushed his glasses up with an alarmed, "Me?"

"You don't think I flew you all the way over here just to sleep through the presentation did you, Doctor?"

"No, no, it is just… I have just arrived; I know nothing of this project Rodney was working on…"

Radek's protests were cut short by Landry. "When did you ever know anything about what you were working on when you were on Atlantis?" The Czech couldn't argue the point and when his only answer was silence, the general continued. "You know more about Ancient technology than anyone in this room. More than that, you know more about how Dr. McKay works than anyone in this room. And seeing as the team that has been working on this project since its inception hasn't been able to figure out how to fix it, I'm thinking the traits you possess may be more important in coming to a conclusion on this… one way or another."

That last was very clear to Radek what he meant. He expected the scientist to determine _if_ Sheppard and McKay could ever be brought back, just as much as he expected him to figure out how to do it. And that thought, that he might have to make that decision to abandon any attempt at rescue, was more daunting than that of fixing the problem ever could be.

"I think," Radek said with a sufficient amount of dread, "I will need more coffee."

Zelenka started a thorough review of McKay's notes even as he ate the first real meal he had had in over a day, becoming so engrossed in the research that half the food sat uneaten by the time he reached the end. As was typical with Rodney, the approach he was taking with the energy field generator was ingenious. As was also typical, there were way too many unknowns to have attempted a field test, and, yet, Rodney had done it anyway.

His conclusion after the initial pass was, yes, they could still be alive. Yes, they could possibly come back, but there did not seem to be too much that could be done from outside the field to help them. They would have to manipulate the field from inside, which, theoretically, would be possible considering both men possessed the ATA gene. But unless they could somehow locate themselves precisely in relation to both time and space, they would just move randomly from place to place and time to time.

Perhaps the scientists here could somehow give the two a homing beacon to hone in on that would assist them. Bringing up the schematics of the generator once again, he looked for any way to hook into the system without turning it off or frying anyone attempting to make a connection. It did not look promising. But maybe they could send something into the field to do the same thing.

Radek glanced up from his seat in the lab to watch as the scientists assigned to work with him continued to pour over data as the generator hummed happily along… then accelerated for a second, only to return to its normal evenly pitched hum. "What was that?"

At his question, one of the others dismissed. "It does that occasionally. At first it happened at predictable intervals, each twice as long as the last, then it started happening randomly. McKay had noticed something similar earlier. He thought it was some sort of instability in the field, a ripple effect caused by the quantum tunneling."

"But if the field has instabilities, then it could send the ship it is transporting off-course," Radek observed.

"Which is why we hadn't tried to transport anything yet. McKay was monitoring it for a pattern to see if he could establish the frequency and strength so that we could program in a buffer that would autocorrect during transport."

"Do you have previous monitoring data?" Radek had an idea, nothing solid yet, but if he could see what was happening with these ripples maybe he could at least figure out what was happening with Rodney and the colonel. And that would be the first step to getting them back.

When it was time to brief General Landry, he had a theory as to what was happening. "So, you can see from past data, the patterns are very consistent. There is blip here, here, here, and so on." He pointed out the distortions on the grids that were displayed on the screen behind him.

General Landry nodded with hands clasped together on the table before him. "Fascinating. But what does past data have to do with what is happening now?"

"Because, the pattern has changed since they have been in field." Bringing up a new screen showing the historical data compared to the data collected since Rodney and Colonel Sheppard had disappeared, he pointed out differences. "See, in beginning it is same, then, here, it diverges. Here it is longer than it should be. Here is shorter, and again here and here."

"What do you think this means, Doctor?" Landry seemed curious by this new data.

"I think that Dr. McKay and Colonel Sheppard have figured out how to manipulate the field from inside. These early disruptions would have been the field impacting their location, making them appear then disappear in various places and times. But these are where they impacted the field and changed locations themselves."

Carson, who was also sitting in on the briefing spoke up then. "If they can change on their own, why haven't they come back yet?"

Radek shrugged. "Maybe they have not perfected ability as of yet. Think of it like control chair in Atlantis or Antarctica. With their ATA gene they can exert some control over the energy field by sending mental commands, just like they could fire a drone from chair. But chair provides a point of reference for navigating the drone to destinations desired by person sitting in chair. Without that point of reference, the drone would rarely hit its target. It would simply fly randomly. Much as I believe Rodney and Colonel Sheppard are doing."

"Will they ever perfect the ability?" the general asked succinctly.

"Possibly. But it will be difficult if they cannot manipulate it to the precise time and location they need to return."

"But this is a good sign, right?" Carson looked to him hopefully for confirmation of his assumption.

"Unfortunately, if we are to help them, it is not. If they had continued on with the same pattern, perhaps we could have developed some way to calculate where and when they would appear and be able to buffer that and redirect them here. But if they are making changes themselves, I have no way to predict where they will go next."

"They're here!" The woman with the wire-rimmed glasses that had been working in the lab slid to a halt inside the door and breathed rapidly from her run to deliver the news. "They just appeared. One second nothing and then bam! They were there."

The people in the room stood in excitement at the news. Carson was already moving toward the door. "Are they injured? Did you call a medical team?"

Radek, given his position at the front of the conference room, was the last to make his way out the door, but he jogged to catch up with Carson and General Landry who had taken the lead with the woman who was leading them back.

"They both had dried blood on them, but they appear fine. The medics were on their way when I left to come get you."

"Did they say anything about where the hell they've been?"

The scientist shook her head in response to the general's question. "I didn't stay around long enough to hear, but they sure seemed glad to be back." Looking around, Radek saw that they weren't the only ones glad they were back. He couldn't seem to stop the smile on his own face that matched the ones surrounding him.

By the time they arrived in the lab, the medics were already there, but that didn't stop Carson from pushing his way through to check the two himself. As soon as Rodney saw the physician he tried to stand, only to be yanked back down by the medic checking his blood pressure.

"Carson!"

"Oh, you two are a sight for sore eyes, to be sure." The Scot's smile dimmed when he noticed the blood on their clothes. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"We're fine," Rodney dismissed with a tug at the shirt that looked to be in much worse shape than the man wearing it. "But I need to know, did you get turtles or lizards?"

Beckett seemed taken aback by the question. "What? What difference does it make…?"

"Just answer me, turtles or lizards?"

"Turtles," he answered with a confused frown at McKay but his attention was quickly drawn to Sheppard.

"And you've been to Atlantis, right?"

"Aye, Colonel, we all have." Pulling the penlight from his pocket he flashed it quickly in Sheppard's eyes. "Are you sure the two of you didn't suffer a bump to the head?"

The colonel waved the small light away, smiling widely and hitting McKay's shoulder happily. "Son of bitch, it worked."

"What worked?"

General Landry's question had both men sobering. "The fact that we're back, Sir."

"Would you mind expanding on that, Colonel Sheppard, and telling me exactly where you're back from?"

"We don't remember," Rodney blurted in response.

Landry's eyes narrowed suspiciously, causing the thick eyebrows to converge above the bridge of his nose. "How are you so sure Colonel Sheppard doesn't remember?"

"Well, I'm assuming… that is… since I personally can't remember…"

Sheppard cut off the babbling physicist. "McKay's right. One minute he was showing me his lab, the next we were back here with everyone excited to see us."

"And you don't remember anything from the last three days?" The general may have asked the question, but he wasn't the only one regarding the men with skepticism.

"Nothing, Sir," Sheppard swore.

Carson asked in disbelief, "Not even how you ended up with blood all over a shirt covered with horses?"

"Mustangs," both men corrected in unison.

Radek rolled his eyes. He always knew Rodney couldn't lie his way out of bed, but he had expected more from the colonel, although he had to give both men credit with how they were holding a straight face after that fiasco.

"Are you sure you don't remember anything about your time in the energy field?" General Landry asked one final time.

"General, I swear to you," Sheppard said as he looked his commanding officer in the eye. "There isn't anything I can tell you about what's happened the last three days."

The men locked stares for a long moment, before Landry finally relented. "We'll discuss this further when you report to work tomorrow, Colonel."

"Yes, Sir."

But Landry had already turned on his heels and was heading out of the room. "Turn that damn thing off before somebody else disappears and develops selective amnesia."

Zelenka had to jump out of the way to keep from being run down by the scientists literally diving to do just that. When he did, Rodney noticed him for the first time. "Radek? What the hell are you doing here?"

"As is always the case, I have been called in to fix what you have broken." The Czech crossed his arms and leaned back against the lab bench, watching the rest of the scientists drift from the room. "Is too bad, you have disappointed many young coeds that were to attend my lecture at University today."

"Ha! The only thing your students will be disappointed about is that they missed out on a chance for a good nap. Otherwise, it was a wasted trip on your behalf, seeing as we didn't need your help to get back."

"Really?" Radek challenged casually. "If you do not remember what happened, how do you know it was not me who brought you back?"

Rodney's mouth opened, closed, then opened again as he turned redder with each attempt at trying to talk and stopping himself. Sheppard, on the other hand, grinned smoothly.

"Thanks for the help, Radek. It sounds like we owe you."

"What?" Rodney demanded of his friend in outrage.

"For saving our lives," the colonel reasoned. "It's the only logical explanation I can think of for how we made it back."

"But he didn't… we… why should he get…"

Sheppard spoke slowly and meaningfully. "It's the only logical explanation, McKay."

Rodney clamped his mouth shut and his arms across his chest. "Fine," he ground out between clenched teeth.

Carson, who had been hovering anxiously over the medics, had finally had enough. "All right, then, I'll take it from here. Let's get you two to the infirmary so I can check you over proper."

The two men stood and followed obediently after the physician, years of training as Carson's patients overriding any protests that they may have had. Radek grinned smugly as Rodney passed, which just earned him a warning. "You just wait until I get you back on Atlantis, you scene stealing hack."

There was something about the way that Rodney said it that convinced Zelenka he meant every word. And as much as he dreaded the retaliation that was to come, he would gladly take it if it meant getting back to Pegasus.

He followed along with the three men that a few weeks ago he had worked with on a regular basis as they made their way to the infirmary. Once there, Carson started running his tests, basically pushing the base physician aside and assuming responsibility for the two men. Radek commandeered one of the hospital beds nearby for a quick nap. Jet lag was always difficult. The body's internal clock saying it was time to be awake while every muscle was saying, hit snooze, it's time for sleep. So that Radek found himself drifting in and out of a doze.

And that was how he had overheard Sheppard and McKay talking quietly in the infirmary from their own beds. Carson had insisted on keeping them there for observation until he and Sheppard flew back to Colorado the next morning. And Radek would make his flight plans back to Europe then, as well. But for tonight, they would sleep… eventually.

"So, do you think they bought it?' Rodney asked barely above a whisper.

"No, I don't, not after that whole mustang flub."

"Hey, I wasn't the only one that did it. And if you hadn't been so adamant about correcting me in the first place, I never would have said anything."

"I don't suppose you saw what Carson did with the shirt when we changed into the scrubs, did you?"

"Colonel, you are way too enamored with that shirt for your own good."

"I could say the same thing about you. And no, you can't borrow it when we get back to…"

"Don't say it!" Rodney ordered nervously.

"I'm not. Christ, paranoid much McKay?"

"In this case, yes. And for very good reason seeing as what's at stake and the fact that they already know we're lying."

"As long as we don't tell them what we're not supposed to," the colonel reasoned, "the fact that they know we're lying shouldn't matter too much."

"Do you really think we'll go back… you know?"

Even with his eyes closed, Radek could hear the smile in Sheppard's voice. "Yeah, I really do."

"Good, because I'm more than ready."

"Me, too."

"Although it kind of sucks that we won't get a chance to go to Vegas. I was kind of looking forward to seeing Carson in a strip club."

The colonel snickered quietly. "It would have been the only chance he had of getting lucky all weekend. He never would have at the tables, that's for sure."

"It would have been nice to hang out with you two again, too."

"What? Running for our lives for a weekend isn't good enough quality time for you, McKay?"

"Smart ass," Rodney snorted. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do."

"It's just not the same here, you know?"

"Yeah," Sheppard sighed, "I know."

"I keep expecting you to walk into my lab or to meet Carson for lunch or to see Elizabeth in the morning staff meetings. And I can't tell you how many times I've called one of the scientists here Radek or Miko."

Radek smiled to himself. He had done the same numerous times since being back on Earth, each occurrence followed by as much melancholy as embarrassment.

"It's not like we're separated by an entire galaxy, Rodney. Not like with…" The colonel took a deep breath and cleared his throat before continuing. "You can pick up the phone and call me."

"I'm not good on the phone. I tend to ramble on."

"Gee, who would have ever thought?"

"See? I'm right; you wouldn't like me calling."

"Actually, McKay, I've kind of gotten used to your rambling."

"Really?"

"Really," he affirmed. "Besides, I'll just hang up on you when it gets to be too much."

Ignoring the threat, Rodney considered for a second before agreeing. "Okay, I'll call, and you can do the same. Hey, I'm supposed to be at the SGC in a couple of weeks to give a status report on the project. I have a feeling it's going to be more of a final project closeout report given Landry's reaction today, but since I'm going to be in town, are you up for dinner? Carson, too, and maybe Elizabeth if she's willing to come out of seclusion."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll sic Carson on Elizabeth. He can work wonders with those baby blues of his."

"It's the brogue," Rodney countered. "Women just don't appreciate the subtleties of the Canadian accent."

"I'm sure that's it," Sheppard consoled around a broad yawn that triggered one in Rodney in return. "It's been one hell of a couple of days."

"No kidding." Rodney yawned again and shifted in his bed before saying, "I'm glad you came down this weekend, Sheppard."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world, McKay…any of them."

They drifted off to sleep then but Radek lay in the dim room continuing to feign sleep. They were going back to Atlantis! For some reason, he didn't doubt it for one minute. Somehow Sheppard and McKay had figured out a way to get it back for them, for all of them. And while he had the satisfaction of holding their secret over the two men for favors once they made it back to Atlantis, they would have the satisfaction of making sure they made it back to the city in the first place.

When all was said and done, Radek decided they would have the better reason to gloat in the end.

THE END


End file.
